


Child of Storms

by Anwyn, Spiced_Wine



Category: Lord of the Rings - Fandom
Genre: AU, Aragorn - Freeform, Eowyn - Freeform, F/M, Lord of the Rings, OFC - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2009-11-19
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2017-10-03 10:23:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 40
Words: 65,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anwyn/pseuds/Anwyn, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spiced_Wine/pseuds/Spiced_Wine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This written written by Anwyn</p></blockquote>





	1. Grief and Hope

The cold stone beneath her feet was stained with dark blood.

It ran in crimson streaks seeping into small crevices, fashioning a moving web which crept ever outwards. Only a fewhours earlier it had run the veins of the free men of Rohan that had served, and died. 

The blood of these free men  now mingled now the thicker black blood of the Orcs. So did the bodies lay, thrown about as carelessly about as a child's toys that had been broken and now useless, cast aside. 

So many had been broken in body but not of spirit, they had pushed and fought to their very last breath.

Those whom had still had the strength to do so had already began the terrible task of seperating their fallen brothers from those whom had slain them. 

_Bema, Help us_ Was her silent whispered plea. There was a eerie quiet within these walls now, where only a short time earlier they had rang with the sounds of battle, the constant clash of steel meeting steal, the war cries of the men who had valiantly fought to keep the fortess, and protect the most precious of treasures which waited beneath stone and earth, treasures of stone and flesh who waited in frightened silence.

  
_The battle has been won...so many lost, was it truly a victory?_

It was as though she were walking in a terrible dream from which she could not readily wake. Though the acidic smoke stung her eyes and caught in her throat, she wondered slowly amongst the carnage that had become of so many of her Kin, she could not see the broken bodies beneath her feet for her eyes were stung by smoke and  tears.

A touch upon her arm "Lady, Come away from here" came the careful murmur

"Leave me" Eowyn spoke without turning, her eyes fixed upon a soldier as he extracted a young man no more than perhaps seventeen summers from beneath the large hulking corpse of an Orc, he was not not so much younger than herself. A shudder ran through her slender frame and only then did she yield to the gentle touch that guided her away. There was not yet a laement to be sung for the fallen, no words in the tongue of the mark that could fully express her sorrow and so she did not speak, her heart could not be lifted.

Vaguely she remebered a carved wooden goblet being placed into her hands, she traced the fibre of the wood lightly with her fingertips as he started forward, Eowyn felt the shape in her hands for it gave her something to focus upon and reason not to meet the eyes of the one whose gaze she did believe glimpsed through flesh and into her very soul.

A hesisant touch upon her damp grimy cheeck, a hand which was un-gentle and calloused much like her own brushed against her skin, lips that met against her own and for that time she did not _think_ she simply _was_ as grief and weariness was worn away from her body, brushed away with every carass.

In every touch there was such great _need_ and she felt it stir and awaken within herself as well.

It was not love that had brought them together but a desire that burned within them both and demanded to be quenched.

Forceful, ungentle, Eowyn ached for more and she allowed his rough hands caress her body and fearlessly she gave and demanded more, for that time wishing to loose herself utterly in his touch. For the first time in such a long time, she felt as though as least there was another who understood what she needed and so freely gave it to her.

His own grief was itself wound, she could hear the pain in his gasps and hot tears flowed down her neck even as he had thrust roughly into her once more and she bit down hard on her lip and tasted blood and her fingers had dug deeply into the flesh of his back, the pain body sealed them both to the moment but it could not surpass a wounded spirit.

Wordlessly they dressed and silent understanding lay between them. They would not deceive themselves into believing it was anything more than a mutual need.

Comfort, may be found in a great many forms, and in the after shock of the Battle of the Hornburg, there was a great need for it.

_ **Some months later** _

This night a storm was raging over the lands of Rohan, horses stood stalk still in there paddocks with heads lowered as the heavy rain drops fell from the heavens. Though for a time the rains had subbsided, and save for the distant rumble of thunder in the distance, the land was strangely silent, peaceful.

Sheets of rain had lashed violently against the side of the small dwelling, but the cabin was well and carefully built, it's design did not allow even the smallest drop of moisture to seep inwards. 

Though within, a storm of a different force of nature was brewing as a tall strongly built man walked ceaselessly the length of the floor before turning sharply on his heel and repeating once more the act of walking the lenth of the room once again.

A small dark haired woman who busisied  herself near the hearth cast him worried glances, these had grown more and more frequent as the long hours had dragged past, and early evening had turned to night, which would soon melt into the dawn.

Eomer knew very little of the mysterious ways of women, but he had felt  very certain that such things were not meant to take so long. Foals, he knew  for fact, could be born and on there feet, at the dams side within minutes.

A small, nearly inaudible sound brought Eomer’s head sharply around, the woman was speaking gentle coaxing words so quietly it was though she did not wish him to also hear.

Eomer's face grew dark, even the smallest hint of pain that crossed his dear sister’s features, it caught him like a blade to his side.

There was a time where he had believed himself able to protect her from all injury, all hurt no matter how great. Even the memory was painful as he could so easily remember finding her broken body amongst the fallen, her already fair skin the color of Simbelmyne petals and garbed strangely in the cloth of a soldier. For a long moment he had beheld her there, seemingly as one who was taken by  death and believed this to be a cruel jest, that somehow his eyes had been deceived. Madness had taken him, madness borne of sheer grief for he had beheld both the fall of his King and now one dearest to him.

The hands of a healer

Indeed they were, for it had been the King who had called Eowyn back from the darkness.

 Aye, a healer but a friend also, a great leader of men....a true King. There were few, of either the living or the dead that Eomer held such high regard for. They had fought together, facing the bitterness of great loss and savoring the sweetness of victory together, as though it were the finest of wine.

Eowyn, he had known from very early had also been more than slightly taken. Never had he seen her act in such a way, though after a time he had began to understand why her affections could never be fully returned.

Eowyn cried out and Eomer was at once by her side, grasping her hand tightly and silently willing her to take a hold of his strength for he wordlessly willed it to her

Ah, strength he knew she had but it was waning for the pains of birth had begun when the sun was still high in the sky, now it had sunk behind the mountains and the moon held court over the night sky.

For too long now she had endured her discomfort in total silence, Eomer’s grasp tightened a fraction as he sensed that it was perhaps nearing its end, or so he so desperately hoped.

When she had first come to him, he had been overjoyed to see her for never had they been parted for such a length of time, he had ordered a feast be made ready and she had quietly requested that he not make such a celebration of her visit. They had spoken in his private chambers, and Eowyn had told him of her plight while her hand rested on the gentle swell of her growing belly.

Eomer had marveled over what he had initially failed to see, and greatly hoped that others had missed as well, Eowyn was most fourthcoming, she sensed her time of hiding was reaching an invertible to end and she had asked him for help.

 Another trouble to burden Rohan’s King as he fought to rebuild lands that had been torn apart by the war's of the Dark one.

Still there were many without homes and lands upon which to grow food and raise there herds. Many had been lost in duty to him, and he could not ignore the suffering of those families left without. Eowyn was of his flesh and blood, he knew he must also lend her his aid during her own time of need.

Under any other circumstances Eomer would have rejoiced and had word sent to every corner of these lands, now he felt torn and conflicted by duty and love, friendship and loyalty. It had been he whom had decided that such thing must be kept secret, and he had gone through great lengths to maintain this.

It had been difficult, but no more difficult he imagined than what Eowyn had kept secret for many months. While he questioned it, Eomer had realized sometime ago that his sister was truly masterful in hiding away her true self.

Another cry pierced the night and Eomer physically flinched, for such an effect did it have upon him and then....nothing, Blissful silence.

Eowyn’s head fell back against the pillows and her eyes fluttered closed, though Eomer could still feel the delicate flutter of her heartbeat beneath the skin of her hand that he still tightly held within his own, though now it had become more for his own sake.

The woman, Veena, slowly rose to her feet and held in trembling hands a section of blanket that had been hastily torn to shreds. It was bloodied

The lines around Veena's mouth grew deeper as her face fell as she looked down at what she held and slowly began to shake her head.

There was utter silence now save for the crackle of flames and Eomers own ragged breath, he felt as though he had just run the entire length of the mark for his heart so pounded within his breast.

"Well?" Was all he could say and the Midwife looked at him with wide, sorrowful eyes.

 _Ah Bema! Please! No!_

__Eomer reached out and clutched the still bundle to his chest as he blinked back the tears that threatened to overtake him.

All these long months he had cursed the child that had grown within his sisters belly, some part of him had hated it for it threatened to ruin the life of bliss and happiness that Eowyn so deserved and had at last found. Guilt flooded through him as he realized then as he held the tiny lifeless body that he had wished for this outcome, it would break his sisters heart but she would grow full with child again....

_No!_ Eomer frantically forced such dark thoughts from his mind, he could not have truly wished for such a thing!

Then a small mewing sound, scarcely heard at first, rose from within the bloodied blankets which the King held.

Eomers breath hitched in his throat and in two long strides crossed the room and was through the door, carelessly slamming it against his hinges as his feet did not make full contact with the steps.

The rains had past by them now, and the air smelled fresh and clean. By the silvery light of the moon, he first beheld a small wrinkled and a mouth of pink toothless gums, the tiny chest quickly rising and falling as the child clearly fought to draw in breath, but was struggling terribly.

_Breathe!_ Eomer silently urged _Awake and Breathe!_

Then at long last the child’s first cry rang through the night, loud and clear and also, Eomer thought to himself, somewhat triumphant. Drawn fourth by the shock of the cool air first meeting with bare skin.

Those who had accompanied him rose from where they had waited nearby, waiting out the storm from outside out of respect for the privacy of the Lady.

For a time Eomer had waited amongst them, but when his concern for his sister had grown too great so he had gone within, for what little good he felt he could do there.

Now he felt at a slight loss, his mind had been set upon what he must do next. Or was it truly? If he was so certain why would he question his choice now?

The infant had begun to shriek loudly now that it had found it's voice and Eomer wished that he would simply be still for a moment and allow him to think.

They had not ridden unprepared and Eomer called to one whom had journeyed with them, a young woman whose dark eyes glistened from beneath the hood of a heavy travelling cloak.

There was no need for word or command, and Eomer wordlessly pressed the child into her arms, and sharply looked away as though he could not stand another moments contanct with it. 

This was the one who he had choosen and would care for the child for a time, he turned but then over his shoulder added to his already silent command “You are sworn to silence by oath and honour, remember this”

Eomer re-entered the small home though only a fraction of the pace that he entered, and at once he felt Eowyn’s sharp gaze set upon him though he met it.

_Why do we do such things?_ He asked himself, feeling sick of heart and spirit.

_It is for the greater good of all_.

  
A silent question moved between them and he wrapped an arm around the slender shoulders and drew her head against his chest "Rest now, dear Eowyn..." was all he murmured and she wept, her tears wracking her entire body even as she buried her face in her hands, the pain of the loss already far greater than the birth which seemed a distant memory.

“I am so sorry, dear sister” He murmured pressing a kiss against the crown of her golden hair “Forgive me”

Eomer heard the sharp whinney of horses and the sound of hooves against the earth, though it had been softened by the rain as half of the party departed, while others had been given order simply to wait. All were of men of his guard that held his trust, he did not worry for their loyalty.

This night he would allow Eowyn to rest, undoubtedly she had already seen too many sleepless nights as a result of this.

This would not been an easy parting, and he would not deny her sorrow, but he could give her this, a chance at a new beginning. To spend her life with the one whom she truly loved, a life of comfort and great happiness, all of which she deserved for her deeds and sacrafice.

For this he also wished for another, may her life also be long and blessed.

Eomer would see to it that it would run its own course, and it would not be tainted by any sorrow from of knowledge of what had transpired this night.

 Dark times had they all seen, and Eomer knew that he must wait out this storm, and only time could ease the keen hurt that he also felt as once more duty placed itself before the will of his heart

 


	2. Riders in the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This written written by Anwyn

Beorn, Rider of Rohan, was a warrior born.

Gifted with a tall strong build and steady mind was well respected with good reason by many and since the time of the War of the Ring, had received the honor of becoming the warden of the Golden Hall.

Though this night he was drawn from a deep much needed rest. Still he was alert and keen at once, it would not be a matter of small importance that would cause him to be called upon at such an hour.

Beside him his wife stirred and murmured something unintelligible, more asleep than wake, though she was sent off to her rest again by a gentle reassuring touch upon her shoulder. Beorn dressed and stomped on his heavy well worn boots.

The door swung inwards, creaking heavily upon its iron hinges, a long table occupied the center of the hall flanked by benches running along each side. The stone hearth that now held a fire that blazed brightly lending both its warmth and the light to the room.

There, a tall man waited, draped in a heavy emerald cloak trimmed with gold swept over broad shoulders . Drops of rain had spotted the dark fabric, and wet tracks upon the stone floor announced the recent arrival of this late guest. The man turned and Beorn immediately felt his irritation leave him and he dropped into a low bow before the man “Hail, Eomer King”

Eomer inclined his head in acknowledgment of the greeting. Even now some months late after the honor had been bestowed upon he felt still somewhat unaccustomed to holding such a title.

“Rise Beorn and let us speak plainly for the hour has grown late and I have ridden far this night”

Beorn strode forward, there was no man more welcome here than the King himself but he was concerned, what could bring the King unannounced at such an hour?

Eomer moved to remove his cloak and as he did so Beorn caught side of a bench that had been drawn closer to the warmth of the fire and set upon it was a long woven basket. The man wondered at it for only a moment before turning his attention to the king.

“I shall have food and drink bought, my King”

“No, I thank you but I shall not be staying long” Eomer said abruptly.

“I have come…” The king paused, his brow furrowing as he ran a hand through his long hair as Beorn had oft seen him do when he was troubled. Eomer stood silent for a moment longer, waiting for words that did not easily lend themselves to his tongue.  
The King stepped back and in a single movement drew the thinly woven blanket off the top of the basket resting upon the bench near the fire.

At first Beorn saw nothing of importance; the basket seemed to contain only more blankets.

Then the blankets stirred, a soft keening sound came from within.

Beorn strode forward. Tightly swaddled within lay a babe, round faced with a pink bow of a mouth.

“My King…You have ridden all this way to bring me a child?” Beorn and his wife had been blessed with three sons, truly a man could ask for no greater gift for they were strong and boisterous and would one day grow to be fine men and warriors he knew this with the bountiful pride of a father but curiosity caused him to look closer and from the very small size of the child he would guess it had been born not long ago.

“My Lord...Where has this child come from?” Beorn fought to keep his tone respectful but at this early hour he found his patience was quickly fraying which was not in he least helped by his utter uncertainty over what Eomer meant for him to do about this, or even more so why he had come to Beorn for if the child was ill, though it certainly did not appear so, there was little he could do and his King would have been better suited seeking the services of a healer

“The consequences of a single moment can be great” Eomer mused aloud, more to himself than the other man in his company. Much to his great relief the child had slept through the greater part of the journey to Edoras, rocked towards sleep by the steady rhythm of the horses strides as they had moved the open plains lit by the light of the stars.

For a time the storm had passed over them but as they had again drawn closer to Edoras again the skies had opened and the rain had fallen heavily and devoured the sound of the approach of the horses. Eomer did not wish to stalk about in the darkness, but his arrival in the city would bring about many questions for which he did not have answers.

“The child is alone in the world” Eomer said stiffly meeting Beorn’s gaze 

“What has become of his parents?” Beorn asked again pressingly but Eomer did not answer, his glance was gentler now as he was glancing down as though the sight of the rosy checked babe had inspired a gentleness in a heart and mind that was just as turbulent as the storm that still raged overhead.

“Beorn, I know you are a loyal servant and a kind man. I wish to entrust you with the care of this child” Beorn stood, his brow creased, he could not bring himself to think of raising another child, not now, reluctance pulled at him, though upon his honor he could not refuse the request of his King.

The Kings gaze was clear and unwavering. Eomer moved a hand to rest upon Beorn’s shoulder and kept it there, as though to steady the man who had never before even for a moment balked away from duty

“Beorn”

Eomer spoke calmly, it was the tone of one who was used to commanding the attention of many but now he asked it fully of the one man before him

“I do not understand. Why have you brought this child to me, I have three sons already as you know. My wife, she is not able to provide for another child now” Aye, only now he had thought of his wife!

“Have no care of that, There is a woman who I have given chambers to, she will be a wet nurse to the child”

Beorn could see now, there would be no victory for him in this silent battle of wills.

A small plaintive sound brought his eyes to the basket. It was a sound; a father of sons knew well, a warning sound of discontent that would become a loud wail if not answered soon.

“By your will King Eomer, I shall care for this child”

Beorn reached into the basket, the small child seeming so much smaller when lifted by his large hands. In a move long born of habit, he carefully held the child against his chest and began to gently rock.

Yet remembering himself, and more importantly the presence of the King, he abruptly stopped.

“I must take my leave” Eomer said as he reached for his traveling cloak “My wife believes that I am still upon the hunt”

Beorn understood the Kings meaning and nodded “You will have much to bring to the feast, upon your return”

Eomer clapped him upon the shoulder and began to draw away, Beorn turned.

"What shall I call the child, Lord?"

The King stilled, as he silently contemplated this.

“Anwyn” Eomer said at last, without turning “You may call her Anwyn”


	3. ComingHome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter moves forward twenty five years.

The torch lent its flickering light chasing away shadows from the darkened corridor.

Helm tucked under one arm and a lit torch in the other, Eadbearn pushed open the heavy wooden door with his shoulder and stepped inside, pausing for only a moment to place his light in one of the sculpted iron rings jutting fourth from the stone wall.

The hour was late and all was quiet and still save for the dancing flame that graced him with light by which he was able to see what he had desired most, his bed.

Placing down his helm, and then his sword, handling both with great reverence as there were few things more dear to him Eadbearn began to unbuckle his armor so that he may rid himself of its weight and then slid the heavy mail off.

The stillness of the air was then broken by a wordless exclamation and the sound of bare feet slapping against stone floor. Eadbearn scarcely had chance to turn before arms were flung about his neck.

The tall man was drawn into fiercely tight embrace from which he could not easily break himself.

Laughing he leaned back, lifting the girls feet from the floor as he did so, causing her to cling to him all the tighter. Flinging out his arms he spun her about once before setting her back down.

Eadbearn drew back and took full measure of his young sister. Anwyn, tall and slender as a willow branch. At this hour she wore only a white dressing gown and her long golden hair, many shades paler than his own, fell unbound about her shoulders. Eadbearn fought not to notice the outline of her small breasts beneath the light fabric, disgusted at himself, she was no longer a young girl even if she acted as such at times. She was changing, and this stirred something within him. Something best ignored.

“I have missed you so much” Anwyn exclaimed as the the bridge of her nose wrinkled

“A long ride my brother?” she remarked casually and easily sidestepped the playful swat her brother had aimed at her breaking into laughter and in that lone moment, It was as though no time at all had passed between them, it had always been so.

Anwyn so loved Eadbearn, not in the same way that she knew her father loved her mother, nor in the same way that she loved her horse and dogs but in a way that was much deeper, of all near to her, he knew and loved her best.

“So? Tell me. Tell of me of all you have seen! Tell me of Gondor!” she spoke even as she turned her back to him to draw nearer one of the chairs from about the table and fell back into it, drawing her knees up to chest and throwing her arms around them and her toes hooking over the edge of the chair and Eadbearn ran a weary hand across his brow.

At an earlier hour, he would have encouraged such questions and such a thirst for knowledge but he had ridden far with thoughts of a change of clothes and a warm soft bed into which he may retreat for a few short hours at least. Now despite the hour Anwyn was alert and vibrant.

It then suddenly struck him “How are you about at such an hour, Anwyn?”

“Brenna” she replied with the hint of a smile and a small tilt of her head back towards the door, referring to the great hound who had been named very young for its jet black coat and whom also spent each night curled at the foot of its mistresses bed and possessed sharp hearing, far beyond that of any man, or in this case, woman

“Ah” came the short response, and he knew that it was something that he should had expected for it was difficult, nay, impossible to enter her rooms or any room near without the great beast alerting Anwyn.

The dogs usually were allowed the space before the fire in which to slumber, but Brenna from a young age had picked his spot and would not be removed from it, and if he was would then sit outside the door and howl until permitted to enter.

Though in these times of long peace, such protection seemed unfounded. Eadbearn had always felt a swell of pride mingled with relief when he looked upon his sister, knowing that she would never see true strife or trouble. Eadbearn was but a young boy when the great war had first descended fully upon his country. 

Anwyn had been amongst those who had been born into a new world shaped by prosperity and peace. When he looked at her, he saw only her trusting innocence. 

“Tell me of your travels, I have not seen very much in your absence and I want to hear of Gondor” Anwyn tried again, as impatient as a child

It was true that the only thing that had happened was that a careless stable boy had not properly secured a gate and several horses had run free amongst the city and it had taken the greater part of an afternoon to catch them again, though she hardly considered that worth mentioning.

Eadbearn was slowly stripping himself of his armor during this time, piece by piece and placing it carefully down upon the growing pile on the table, it was a menial task that was keeping him awake, it was not an action that required a great deal of thought.

The friendship between the two countries was now stronger than it had ever been in times past, and the King often traveled there in the company of his Queen and the Young Prince. Eadbearn had been amongst those to journey with him as ceremonial guard, and while there his stay had been most pleasant and all welcomed them warmly but all he could truly focus upon was his own home, and all that would await him there.

Eadbearn turned to Anwyn fully, so that she could see the dark creases of his eyes.

Anwyn bowed her head in a gesture of understanding and rose from her seat “Tomorrow then”

Quietly crossing to him and embracing her brother once again, gentler this time understanding he was worn from a long ride

“I am happy you have returned safely” she whispered before taking a step back and turning to disappear through the doorway into the darkened corridor, he strained to hear it but believed he also heard the footfalls of paws joining the steps of his young sister. Eadbearn smiled the first true smile that had come to his lips in weeks.


	4. A Forgotten Accquittance

The gentle light of dusk this day found Anwyn at the stables, or rather just beyond. The nearby song of a lark and the low thrum of crickets filled the air and she hummed gently to herself as she ran the stiff brush along the horse’s high flanks.

The dappled mares coat caught the golden light causing it to glow; Anwyn ran her hand across that light, satisfied with her work. Whitelocks had been given to her when she was only a girl, a gentle and kind mare. At times she could not be ridden as she had grown heavy with foal but those days were behind her now, the old mare had certainly earned her rest.

Untying the horses lead from the wooden post it only took the faintest touch to encourage the mare to follow. As Anwyn strode towards the stables she bowed her head to those whom she passed who greeted her.

Turning a corner she paused when she was certain she had heard her name and lifted her eyes, squinting slightly against the glare of the sun that now shone over the tops of the thatched roofs.

For a moment she stood, waiting. Not hearing herself called again she continued on to the stables.

Returning the horse to her stall and ensuring that she was well settled, Anwyn hung the bridle upon its hook and walked out of the stables, pausing for a moment to bend and wash her hands of a small stone fountain and shaking away the droplets.

Anwyn straightened, turned and nearly collided with a woman that stood so close behind her was forced to take another step back, a soft word of apology upon her lips as she did so

“Are you the Lady Anwyn?”

“I am” Anwyn spoke as she also took in the appearance of the woman, whether it was the rich crimson and gold robes which she wore to the elaborate style of her hair to the perfume which lingered heavily in the air between them.

The woman's appearance was starkly different to her own, as grass stains from a fall she had taken from her horse earlie marked her skirt and her arms were darkened from mud and dust, a dark streak of dirt also ran the length of her brow.

The woman’s eyes were very dark, it was not an unattractive feature though they were a stark contrast to her otherwise pale complexion and slight hairline creases beneath her eyes also betrayed the tale years. Golden blonde hair was piled in an elaborate style above the woman's brow, and beneath it her gaze was sharp.

“I am the Lady Armelle” the said at last with a flash of white teeth which revealed a chilling smile which Anwyn then realized that her lips were painted as well, which Anwyn found most odd.

“Anwyn” Armelle spoke slowly, as though she was savoring each vowel upon her tongue and despite herself, the subject of the strange woman’s interest could not help but raise a questioning brow.

Either this woman found her name very pleasing, or she was slightly mad, or perhaps a touch of both “Daughter of Lord Beorn and the Lady Brunhild?” Anwyn did not immediately think anything strange of this for many knew of her family, for her Father was well respected and known.

“Yes, I am” she answered, a small smile breaking across her own features, a swell of both love and pride touching he.

“Of course” The woman’s dark eyes flashed as she turned away slightly “We have met once before Anwyn, do you remember this?”

“Forgive me, I do not” Anwyn replied.

“You would not” The swiftness and certainty in the tone of the answer caused her brow to raise again in surprise, the only outward sign that she gave that this troubled her, why ask a question to which she already knew Anwyn had no answer?

“You have grown” The words were soft, spoken upon a single breath and Anwyn could scarcely hear what she had said but the woman lifted a hand and brushed it gently against her check, following the curve of her jaw so that the long fingered hand came to rest upon her shoulder and for a moment Anwyn stood frozen and filled with both outrage and surprise. It was a far too familiar touch from one whom she was certain she had never met.

As one who slumbers and then comes to wakefulness all too soon, Anwyn drew herself away quickly, the movement sharp yet awkward a far removal from her usual graceful step. Though she longed to order the woman that she must never touch her again, she drew back for it while she who called herself a Lady had acted so it gave her no excuse to act thus as well. Anwyn believed she saw a quick flash of anger in those unfathomable dark eyes, but it was only momentary and was as quickly gone as it had come.

"Forgive me, for I knew you long ago"

"I do not remember you" Anwyn said bluntly, drawing further away from this woman.

The edges of the woman’s lips curled upwards

"I cared for you, when you were a young child. You would not remember me"

"You must be mistaken. I have a mother, she cared for me" Anwyn said, this woman was either bold or a fool to make such claims.

The smile did not vanish from the woman’s face, it only grew larger. 

"Are you certain?"

“I must go'

Even had she worn an under dress made of burrs and thistles Anwyn did not think it was possible to feel anymore awkward and uncomfortable than she did in this moment. Her cheeks burned and as she hurried along she strove to remind herself she had done nothing wrong, when she rounded a corner she stopped and fell back against the wall. Drawing in a deep breath and exhaling, forcing herself to take another.

There had been something about the woman, in her touch, that had made Anwyn feel so troubled, it made her stomach churn. Even now the overwhelming scent of roses clung to her skin, It was not a flower that even really grew upon this lands save for the squat wild bushes that at times were laden small pink blossoms pushing outwards through the thorns.

Anwyn was troubled, it only took those few words and the briefest encounter with the woman but the seeds of doubt had been planted in her mind. Though she silently vowed to tell her Father of this woman, he would tell her the truth and that would be enough for her.


	5. Disobedience

Anwyn waited and then held a moment longer until she was certain that the woman had gone.

Raising a hand to brush a stray tendril of hair back from her face, she drew in a deep breath and slowly blew it away. They were only words, lies but she felt shaken and angered that the woman would even suggest such a thing. Perhaps it was the delusions of an ill mind, she could not say.

As she strode back towards the golden hall though her steps faltered slightly as she saw what awaited her there.

Anwyn's pale eyes fell across the small group that had gathered though her expression remained completely impassive. At the forefront stood Beorn, her father, was uncharacteristically silent and still and she could see the redness of his skin beneath his thick beard. This did not bode well for her.

Flanking him stood her three brothers, their expressions also stern.

“Where have you been?” Anwyn knew this tone well, it did not outwardly betray fathers anger but she was old enough to recognize it as a sign that she was in a great deal of trouble, and to tread carefully. “I was just beyond the city gates, riding”

“Of which you did not ask permission nor did you tell anyone where you rode. Anwyn, you know better than this” The man’s deep voice was even, though she heard well enough the underlying tone of disappoint she stood unflinchingly and still in the face of his displeasure, and nor would she make excuse for her actions now “You could have been hurt”

Anwyn inwardly flinched at the sharpness in his tone, though her features remained impassive, though she saw herself as a woman though her father still treated her as she were still a small girl.

Anwyn knew she had broken her fathers rule, so she remained silent, accepting of whatever punishment he saw fit for her, and stood hands folded before her. Anwyn glimpsed down suddenly feeling self-conscious of the dirt beneath her finger nails.

Beorn turned slightly and ran a hand through his long hair “Go to your chambers Anwyn, await me there”

Bowing her head she turned neatly on her heel and strode away. Beorn blew out a long breath; he had checked himself greatly for the rising of three sons seemed a simple task when compared to the more firm hand he often had to take towards his spirited young daughter.

Turning to his sons, Beorns gaze swept over them and resting upon his eldest son the longest.

“Go, There is nothing more to be done here” he said in gruff way of dismissal. It had been Eadbearn who had first alerted him to Anwyn’s absence.

At length, Beorn began to make his ways to Anwyn chambers, knocking gently and waiting until a voice from within called for him to enter and he pushed the door inwards.

Anwyn turned from the basin, water dripping from her freshly washed hands.

“You disobeyed me” Beorn said simply without preface.

“I did” Anwyn simply, drying her hands on her skirt. There was no regret in her tone; she acknowledged her disobedience as though it were a matter not worthy of great attention.

“I am not a child any longer, Father”

“And you seek to prove this to me by taking your horse and running off?”

Anwyn stared stonily ahead, not speaking.

By know she had learned not to use the argument that her brothers were afforded more freedom than she dared think of, but as her father had reminded times beyond counting, she was her fathers daughter, not one of his sons.

Though she was not a son, Anwyn saw much of her father within herself and knew that neither would yield. While she would acknowledge she had gone against his command, she would not accept that it was right.

“You shall remain here for the rest of the night to think upon what you have done”

It was a very mild punishment as far as Anwyn saw and this night she would welcome staying in for that encounter with that strange woman still left her feeling uneasy, at least within her room she would not be disturbed.

As her father walked to the door, Anwyn turned her head slightly towards him, it was on the very tip of her tongue to say something of the dark eyed woman to him but she thought better, she did not want to appear as though she were trying to distract from her disobedience.

_It is not worth mention _ Anwyn told herself as she turned back to the basin, she washed and scrubbed harder than was needed, but still the memory of that knowing half smile lingered in her thoughts, it was this she tried to wash away.


	6. Chapter 6

The banner of the King caught and was lifted by the wind as the long note of a single horn blow could be heard echoing from the distance. Riders approached bearing similar banners before them as the galloped ahead; another long blast of the horn announced the King’s arrival to the city.

A white horse, reminiscent of the loyal steed of Eorl against a field of green, It had been the standard of the late King Théoden but now it also bore a white tree as well, reflecting the friendship and love for the King of Gondor. It had been at the insistence of the new King of Rohan that it had been added, and had remained part of the royal banner since.

The northern winds stirred the skirts Anwyn's gown to dance about her ankles and long sleeves fluttered about like the wings of a moth but she remained perfectly still with her gaze set intently upon the group of riders that swiftly moved towards the gates. Beside her stood her brothers, all dressed as finely as she was in dark shades of green and gold.

It would be quite sometime until the party had woven its way through the city, and up the hill to where the Golden hall, but here they would wait to receive them. Anwyn’s gaze slid over to Byrde who was closest to herself in age, who fidgeted pulling down his tunic nervously, and catching her eye he smiled wryly and turned forward again.

After a time the horses came to a stop and the bottom of the stairs, snorting and pawing at the ground, still eager and fresh even after a lengthy journey. As their riders dismounted and others hurried forward to take the reins, Anwyn found herself straightening her back.

Anwyn had seen the King Eomer from a distance before, but now as he mounted the steps she studied him more closely, careful of not appearing to openly stare. Lavishly dressed and tall, he was of nearly the same age as her father though the years scarcely had begun to show, he still moved with the economy and grace of a warrior, his long hair was neatly braided which only served to sharpen his features. In sharp contrast to the King, at his side was his Queen who was just as lovely as Anwyn had remembered her to be, tall and graceful she was dressed in a long gown of light blue which emphasized her slender figure. Lothriel’s arm was linked with that of her husband though while his expression was quite stern, there was an ever present smile upon her face and in her large soft grey eyes as she accepted a small gathering of wildflowers that was shyly offered by a young girl.

They were followed closely by a young man, near Anwyn’s age who was clad in a leather laced vest worn over a loose tan tunic and leggings, possessing the light hair of his father but the light grey eyes of his mother. Anwyn needed no introduction to know that this was the young Prince Elfwine, whom she thought quite handsome.

When the King had reached the stop of the steps, her father had stepped forward and greeted him though it was more the meeting of very good old friends than a King and warden, clasping the shoulder of the other they had smiled as they spoke, and she was surprised to see how quickly the Kings expression had changed as he laughed deeply at something she had not heard.

“…and my daughter, Anwyn” So intent had she been in studying those who were newly arrived, she did not recognize that her father had already began to introduce his children.

Quickly catching herself she placed her foot behind the other, balancing on the ball of her foot and knelt at the knee lowering her head and eyes in a graceful if not somewhat rushed curtsy before him

“My King” she intoned gently, straightening and raising her eyes again to him. For a long moment, that felt near hours he stood studying her before without a word moving on.

“My Queen” she repeated the gesture of respect to the woman who graced her with a warm smile before moving onwards to greet others and Anwyn loosened a breath that had caught itself in her chest.

As the King moved onwards and continued to be greeted by others, though the formality was soon loosened and many spoke openly with him and amongst themselves. Drinks were served and the mood of all became looser once more. When the feast was readied, Anwyn served the table of the King, it was an honor reserved for her as she was the daughter of the warden of the hall.

Every effort had been made to see that all moved freely, for these were indeed still the halls of the King and he should be made to feel as welcome here as he would in his own home. Indeed it seemed as though he was, for his loud clear laughter could be heard which was joined by her father's and the King rose at one point and made a toast, blessing the people and the lands.

When Anwyn took her place at the long table, she pretended to be unaware of Eadbearn’s nearly constant glances in her direction instead drinking deeply of the rich wine of her glass and glancing onwards at those gathered and took bread together, the sound of laughter and talk filled the great hall as many had come and all were welcome.

As voices were lifted in song, and each voice was joined for all knew of them, there were so many who joined who did not live in the times of darkness for which many were composed, while sung with great enthusiasm by those younger, those older held back with more reverence for they had lived to see the dark times and battles, old scars and broken bones long since healed served as a lasting testament to many.

Though they were still honored for what they have given, as were those who had given their lives and there were many beyond count who had never returned from the far fields before Mundburg. When Anwyn had asked her father to tell her of such times, his voice had always been filled with a strange mingling of pride and sorrow.

Even while the night air beyond was chilled, there was no need for a fire within the space for the close press of bodies and Anwyn attempted to negotiate her way through the constant press of bodies. It was impossible to be heard over so many voices.

Anwyn turned at a gentle touch upon her shoulder, she turned and the smile she had worn but a moment earlier faded.

It was Lady Armelle, within her sleeves Anwyn’s hands tightened into fists, she did not welcome this woman’s company, she liked even less that it seemed that the woman had made point of singling her out amongst so many, it was unsettling.

“Lady Anwyn, It is good to see you again”

“Lady Armelle” Anwyn greeted her flatly. There was something about this woman that did not make her feel right, that made her flesh crawl. There was something _wrong_ Armelle wore a gown of deep crimson and gold. Red was traditionally a color reserved for nobility, perhaps this woman was of noble birth but Anwyn silently doubted it, she had never before encountered her or even heard of her before.

“Might I speak you with you?”

“Are we not already speaking?” Anwyn answered, her tone lightly though she full well heard the rudeness in her own tone.

“I am to stay within the hall. It is at the command of my father” Anwyn continued.

“I wish to have words with you, privately if I may. Only for a brief moment, I shall speak to your father on your behalf if you are missed”

Anwyn was prepared to decline this but through the throng of guests her eyes fell upon her father, deeply engaged in a conversation with the King. It frustrated her that of late he kept an even tighter rein upon her than usual, she had always had a curfew but she was scarcely permitted to leave her rooms without his permission, all for a slight act of disobedience.

While she did not trust Armelle, she did crave a moments peace from the feast, her feet were sore and her throat dry. With a slight nod of her head she gave her consent and followed closely behind the woman, casting quick glances in her father as she went. No, he did not see her go. Good.

Strangely, Armelle seemed to know her way from the hall and lead the way from one of the corridors that fed into the main hall. Anwyn followed closely behind her, she still did not trust the woman but she was within her home, there was no danger here.

Armelle opened a door and motioned Anwyn inside, following and closing the door behind her. When the woman had spoken of privacy, she had truly meant it. It was completely quiet now, not even the murmur of many voices raised in conversation to compete against others who spoke at the same time could be heard.

“There is not much time, but what I am about to tell you must be told” Armelle said drawing her shawl tighter around her shoulders and glancing about

“I am listening” Anwyn said slowly, there was such a look of worry on the woman's face, it caused a chill to coarse down Anwyn's spine.

“You Father…he is not truly your father, nor did the one you call your mother carry you. You were born of another line and hidden by King Eomer immediately following your birth. You were too great danger to the new peace between Rohan and Gondor. It was I that nurtured you when you were but a small child. I must leave this night, and I want you to come with me. You do not belong here amongst these people, they only continue lie and deceive you"

A long moment passed and Anwyn slowly nodded.

“You are mad” she said simply at last, a touch of sadness in her tone for she pitied this woman who was clearly touched by madness. One who masqueraded about in fine clothes and made impossible claims. Anwyn silently berated herself for following, she knew better than this! Now she had allowed herself to be alone with this woman, she did not seek trouble, but so often it managed to find her all the same.

“Wait!” Armelle started forward, reaching out to her as Anwyn reached the door.

“Do not touch me” Anwyn commanded icily. Now she regretted not warning her father of this woman, touched in the mind as she may be, she could yet be dangerous .

Anwyn stormed from the room, glancing behind to assure herself that the woman did not follow. With her gaze behind her Anwyn did not see the hulking form waiting ahead until she directly collided with it, and fell backwards.

A large hand clamped itself over her mouth while another hauled her back to her feet by her hair, her muffled scream was of both surprise and pain.

Her heart felt as thought it would burst from her chest and Anwyn kicked out with both feet even as her arms were wrestled away from her. Before her stood the biggest man she had ever seen, when he grinned at her she felt boneless with fear yet mustering herself she struck out again and caught him in the leg, the man did not flinch, she may well have kicked against a brick wall. Pain shot up her leg and Anwyn bit back a howl of pain. 

More figures bled from the shadows behind him. Anwyn drew back a breath to scream again but the sound was muffled by a leather glove.

Vaguely she was aware of being maneuvered backwards, she fought for breath against the large hand which covered her nose and mouth.

“Fool! You’ll kill her!”

The hand was drawn away from her face and Anwyn drew in several deep breaths, though the pressure that kept her arms pinned behind her back remained achingly constant.

Armelle stood before her, hands placed upon her hips, her expression stern as though she were to reprimand a stubborn child “You would have made this easier upon yourself if you had listened and come along with me willingly”

White hot fury welled up within Anwyn and she let out a furious scream even as she fought to lunge forward

Anwyn did not see the knife that was at her throat, but she felt the press of cold steel against her flesh.

“Make another sound and I’ll cut your throat” A mans voice, terrifying in its calm, whispered close to her ear.

Anwyn whimpered as the blade was pressed further against her skin.

“Enough” Armelle said “We do not have time for these games, It will not be long before she is noticed missing. Bind her and let us go”

The knife was removed and rough rope scratched against the skin of her wrist, a wild panic exploded within her mind replacing the numbing fear that held her still but moments ago and she burst forward, breaking from the hands that held her “No, I will not-!”

The pummel of the blade was brought crashing down upon her head and Anwyn fell forward in a crumpled heap upon the floor.

“Idiot! I told you, she is needed alive!” Armelle hissed furiously starting forward; she reached down and felt the strong flutter of a pulse at the woman’s throat. Anwyn was alive, she was simply knocked senseless, it be far easier this way she supposed.

Armelle nodded to one of the men “Pick her up and be quick!"


	7. Vanished

The scent of rich soil and bruised grass, a coarseness that moved against her cheek as she stirred.

Anwyn tried to blink the rough grit that gathered in the corners of her eyes.

It felt as though her skull had been shattered, and was only held together a disorienting web of pain and confusion. Anwyn squeezed her eyes shut, closing against the tears of frustration and pain that threatened to flow.

Vaguely she was aware of voices nearby and their tones were far too loud, much too rough and grating to her ears

Moving was difficult. No, movement was impossible. There a tightness around her limbs that would not yield to her struggling.

Movement was a foolish venture, every moment of it brought about a fresh wave agony to her head and the sickness slid downwards into her gut. Light dazzled her eyes, still fought to look about. Several lean horses grazed nearby, her eyes lingered upon them. They wore no saddle but if she could get free and run to one of them, she was certain she could out ride her captors.

Anwyn turned her face away from the noise, reaching out to gather what she could and panic shot through her as she at last realized her hands were bound, as were her feet at the ankles, a scream welled up in her throat but was bitten back, swallowed down, she could not afford to bring attention to herself. The coarse rope burned her flesh, rubbing raw and still she struggled, the pain only served to sharpen her senses, cast away the haze that held over her thoughts.

From her perspective of laying upon the ground Anwyn could see very little but she stilled when she heard the distinctive swishing of a woman’s underskirts, a shadow fell across her.

“Do not struggle sweetling, you will hurt yourself” Armelle said kindly as she knelt down beside Anwyn.

“What have you done? Untie me at once!” Anwyn spat angrily, though she heard the faint quiver of fear in her own voice, she felt warmth spread across her cheeks, she was as afraid as she was furious.

“Only once you have proven to me that you can behave yourself” Armelle said easily, as though she thought very little of keeping the captive woman tightly bound.

“If you release me at once, once my father finds us, I shall ask him to show you mercy”

“Will you?” Armelle appeared amused; she quirked an eyebrow questioningly “What makes you think your Father searches for you? His openly disobedient daughter who no man will take? Perhaps he will be glad you are gone”

Stung, Anwyn turned her face away and said nothing. Though she knew within her heart that her father would come for her, even now he was searching she was certain.

“You will come to thank me” Armelle began as she lowed herself to sit beside Anwyn in the grass, drawing her knees to her chest “When you learn the truth”

“You know nothing of truth” Anwyn wondered at herself, why did she still indulge this woman further by speaking with her?

“I know enough. I have had much time to learn as the coin of your King has allowed me to live in comfort for many years” Armelle replied smugly.

“I know of your mother, your true mother, the one who bore you and allowed you to be taken from her arms. If she is willing to pay my price, I will allow her see you once more”

'You have taken me from my true mother!' Anwyn cried twisting and fighting against her bonds, at this she was aware of the unfriendly gaze of those men who sat before a small fire.

“Raise your voice to me once more and I swear I shall break your bones and leave you to rot where you will never be found” Armelle’s mood was swiftly changed and her eyes were as hard and dark as polished river stones, promising to make good upon her word.

Armelle moved with the swiftness of a hawk taking a grouse as she took hold of the front of Anwyns gown and pulled her upwards.

“I would kill you now but you are worth so much more to me alive”

“I would rather die than dishonor and deny my family”

“Stupid girl!” Armelle screeched as she threw Anwyn to the ground with a snarl.

Anwyn tasted blood, and flecks of light exploded before her eyes, she blinked quickly to hold to consciousness. Anwyn forced her eyes to focus on the woman’s face that lingered above her blocking out the warmth of the sun, a vengeful eclipse.

The scent of rosewater no longer clung so heavily to Armelle, she carried scent of a hard, long ride. It was a scent that Anwyn that was upon Anwyn as well, and her torn dirty gown.

Armelle, with a cold fury welling up within her, had only now begun to realize that she could not frighten the younger woman with threats of harm alone. It should have been so simple; she could not allow her prize to be harmed. In Anwyn she saw a spoiled, overindulged child who should have been so easy to break and then in doing so, control.

Anwyn was able to conceal her fear from the woman well, though it was very much there. Just below the surface, she drew about her an outward calm as one does a cloak to protect themselves. Anwyn could not afford to loose her wits, not now. All of this was far too strange, too precarious.

All she wished to do was return home, and never had such a simple thing seemed so far from her reach.

Rising to her feet Armelle ran a hand across her face; they had put a great deal of distance between themselves and Edoras yet still not enough that she might rest easily. Dragging along the unconscious girl had slowed their pace considerably, and they had brought an extra horse. Armelle had intially expected Anwyn to come along willingly.

Glancing at the men she made a gesture with a hand and they began to rise, lifting saddles and bridles. They were preparing to leave; dirt was hastily kicked over the small fire they had lit.

“We ride to Gondor and Minas Tirth. Heed me when I tell you that you will not be known there, you will simply be another face amongst many and there will be not one willing to aide you. If you ever wish to return home, you will do exactly as I tell you'

Anwyn fell silent for a long moment, she felt as though she were one great walking bruise. Sore, lost, frightened and utterly at the mercy of this woman who was most certainly mad but as fate, but held far too much power over her. The men nearby, Anwyn gathered, had no true loyalty above what could be bought with coin, they would do as they were commanded and nothing more.

There was no appealing to them, they did not care.

'Why are you doing this?' Anwyn asked in a small voice, meeting Armelle's gaze and holding it. 'I am not who you believe me to be. Please let me return to my family' the younger woman implored and for the briefest of moments Anwyn though that Armelle actually considered this but with a faint shake of her head she turned away and strode off. 

A short time later and Anwyn found herself mounted atop a horse, sway backed and favoring it's left hind leg. It's bridle tied to the saddle of one the men, her hands remained bound but she had been given her legs so that she might grip the saddle and not fall. They were, wisely, taking little chance with her for every moment Anwyn was looking to escape. Armelle was cunning and had given her the horse least able to outrun the others, had Anwyn somehow managed to pull away.

As the horses broke into a gallop, Anwyn was the only to look back, her long unbound hair flung back by the wind as every stride took her further from the only home she had ever known.

Fear not of any harm befalling her now, but fear that she would never again return.


	8. "To set foot where you never did, Father"

Dwarves had rebuilt the great gates, once empty mansions behind high white walls now rang to the sound of children's laughter. The streets bustled , and the tongues of Rohan, of the Outlands, of points much further north could be heard, and even more foreign lilts.

Minas Tirith, under Elessar Telcontar, was thriving, flowering once again, as did the long dormant White Tree in the Court of the Kings, which bore effulgent blossoms.  
Now, the White Tower of Ecthelion flew the Royal standard, which told all that the king was in residence, and people crowded on the streets or leaned from windows to watch as their ruler and his queen passed through the seven tiers of the city. They were riding out of this city of stone, this tower of guard, to the lands beyond.

The Athelas Inn, on the fourth tier of the city, was frequented by the richest of visiting merchants, or the wealthy sons of nobles, and its reputation for luxurious rooms, the best wine and food had been famed for hundreds of years. It had been called another name before the War, but during the siege, the owner had aided in the Houses of Healing, and seen the efficacious property of that plant. He believed the name lucky, and certainly his establishment, it had prospered.

Guests opened casements as the clop of horses hooves on stone echoed from the walls, watching the party that passed: the king, noble, tall in the saddle, the famed Elven queen, crowned with spring flowers, and behind them a young man, with a beautiful face and eyes so clear a grey they were almost silver-white ; the young Prince , Eldarion.

After him rode some dozen more men and women, richly clad and smiling. The onlookers bowed or inclined their heads, for the sight of their ruler gladdened their hearts. Out of darkness and the storm of Mordor he had come, and now sat upon a throne empty for a thousand years.

The serving maid, sent to place mulled wine at a table, poured, and looked out of the window, with a gleam in her eyes, then, as she felt the weight of another pair upon her, glanced down, blushing.

'' A fair sight, sir. '' She excused her inattention.

The very strange man turned his head to gaze out.  
Gelinnas, the inn-keep, said that these two guests were not Men at all, but Elves. The two were very different, one with blue-black hair and the other silver, but but owned the same grainless white flesh as Arwen and her brothers. The black-haired one with those unnatural violet eyes appeared wealthy, although his clothes were not that of a merchant or even a noble; he wore severe black leather, save for his cloak of wool, yet he carried himself like a king.

The maid whisked away, nervous. It was those eyes of his, hard as diamonds, and more brilliant.  
Gelinnas, whom did little more work these days than sample the new wines and ales, and oversee his inn, came across.

'' Is there anything else you require sir? ''

'' No, I thank-you. '' The man tasted the wine, set down the heavy silver cup with a nod of approval.

'' Fortunate you are to see the king and queen ride this way, and the young Prince, soon they will be away to the north, to their palace at Evendim.''

Came a faint smile.

''I have seen the king before. ''

''Ah? Not the queen? They say she is the likeness of an Elven Maid of long ago. Lúthien Tinúviel. You know that tale, of course.''

''I know the tale. I never saw her either. '' This casual comment hauled the garrulity back behind Gelinnas's lips, and he wondered for a moment if he was being jested with or whether... he backed away and turned to greet another guest, a florid older man in rich velvets.

Vanimórë smiled at Elgalad and looked back through the window. He seemed to create a circle of solitude about them both that few were willing to impinge on.

I do not know if Arwen looks like her foremother, but I think her son might.

He drank again, still smiling. He would not be in the White City all that long, but it had given him a great deal of satisfaction to pause at the gates, look east to Mordor and know that his father was gone. And that Sauron's son had set food where Sauron never had.

He had journeyed with Elgalad south to the spices and gold of the Harad, an armed guard to traders, unwilling to take Elgalad entirely from the north, to which he returned at whiles. But he had never before entered Minas Tirith. It was not a place he would have chosen to live. So long had he known massive towers and chambers, that he was accustomed to a sense of space.  
But the city interested him; he could see that the older building work was the more skilled, calling to mind the architecture of Numenor, which of course he had known. Nothing would ever be as Numenor was, of course, but this was an echo of it, as Elendil and his sons had meant it to be.

Traders were flocking in like spring birds, and in the next few days, Vanimórë saw many enter the city. There were nobles too, craftsmen, all coming to the new Minas Arnor in search of opportunities or wealth; the city acted like a lodestone, and the lower streets were always bustling.

This particular group drew his attention, because his senses were ever awake to things which seemed a little...off.

The lead rider was a man, in leather jerkin and breeches, rough, unshorn and unwashed, but with the tough, hardened look of an experienced fighter. Two women rode behind him; one with pale hair and dark eyes, the others face much younger, half concealed by a hooded cloak which seemed too large for her slenderness. Behind them were other riders, who stopped at the gates, and rode east toward the Harlond. The gate-guards seemed to glance with recognition at the fair woman, who drew her party aside, like every-one else as the king rose past.

Vanimórë found it almost amusing to look at Elessar, and know he was the son of this one's greatest enemy. Sauron would certainly have sought to kill the heir of Elendil had he known of him. As it was, he had not even known that his line survived until Aragorn looked in the Orthanc Stone, and revealed himself.

He was still regarding Elessar when the younger woman, whom had entered with the older one, appeared behind him, her face a pale crescent against the dark cloak. Elessar's own profile almost superimposed on the girl's, for a moment, and Vanimórë's eyes narrowed. Then the King moved on, and Eldarion took his place, and the feeling grew stronger. Vanimórë considered, and gazed across the street to where the women now moved their horses forward.

Vanimórë followed. No-one knew him here, so he saw no need to go cloaked and hooded. Thus he was quite visible to the women, and the elder met his eyes, her expression changing to a wary frown.

She is old enough to be the mother, but she is no blood kin.

Abruptly turned her horse, heading deeper into the city. The man who rode with them reined back, bending his head to listen to something she said and then looked back at Vanimórë, who smiled.

This was intriguing, he thought, as he casually slipped among the pedestrian's and followed them. They were heading for the great livery stables where most of the horses were kept. Vanimórë leaned back in the shadow of the great wall and waited for the man he knew would come this way. His stench arrived before he did, and he started as he saw Vanimórë, who winked and pursed his mouth.

"I knew thou wert watching me," he murmured. "But I warn thee, I am very expensive."

This had exactly the effect he knew it would. He saw the man's temper rise, overcoming common sense. So many big, bullying, blustering men were terrified at the thought of another male looking at them with desire. Vanimórë laughed inwardly.

"One gold piece and I will show you undreamed of delights," he purred.

The man drew back his arm, his face empurpled, and Vanimórë slipped a knife against his groin.

''I wager I can geld you before you can throw that punch, Man. '' He discarded the come-hither expression like a used rag.

''I just wish thee to tell me a thing. I will give thee gold for it, but refuse or betray me, and some-one will find you in an alley with this knife up thine arse and thy testicles in your mouth. Is that clear?"

His skin paling under the dirt, the man nodded.

''Good,'' Vanimórë said.

Not long after. a bag of gold stuffed down his filthy breeches, partly for safety and partly because he felt he needed to assure himself his privates were intact, the hired and now rehired warrior slunk off to join his former employer.

Vanimórë smiled to himself as he strolled negligently up the curving streets.


	9. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter written by Anwyn

Armelle had allowed the company to stop at whiles, to rest the horses.

At these times Anwyn had slept, spreading out the cloak that had been thrust upon her upon and wrapping herself up in it, making herself appear as small as possible. When she was roughly shaken awake she would rise and they would ride onwards. Never had Anwyn travelled so far, and though she slept she felt bone weary and unwell. Washing was a luxury she no longer possessed, and the odor of horses, dirt and sweat clung heavily to her, it was a small grievance in the face of all else she supposed. The gown she had been so proud to wear, fine enough to come before a king was now dirty and torn far beyond repair.

At times she would find Armelle looking at her with an open expression of shrewdness, as though there were something of great worth that she alone could see. 

The number of days they had traveled was utterly lost upon her; if it was not for the coming of night one day would simply bleed into another. 

Anwyn was treated much like the horses in that she was fed, given water, given time to rest. If she said nothing, no undue attention was paid to her. Armelle made point to threaten her at times, but did raise a hand and Anwyn for her part was careful not to provoke her.

Nestled against the mountain was a city, seemingly carved of the mountain itself. It rose up gleaming and splendid before them. It was as close to the mountain as a child pulled against a mother skirts. From a distance, it might have appeared to be a glitter of light, which dazzles the eye. Anwyn had long heard of the Kings City, but had never imagined that one day she might look upon it for herself. Now she looked upon it and only felt frightened.

Anwyn, it seemed, was not the only one of the party touched at such a sight. Armelle, those men who accompanied them, grew more visibly uneasy the closer they came to the city. When they grew close they peeled away, to what end she did not know.

Armelle demanded that Anwyn draw the hood of her cloak over her face. Anwyn could not see why it mattered. Armelle herself had told her she would not be known, and furthermore, she would not find anyone who cared. 

Massive gates now loomed menacingly before them; they rode through many tents and throngs of people just beyond the massive stone walls. Anwyn felt skittish, uneasy even as her horse plodded quietly onwards nonplussed, simply following where it was led. Anwyn looked to the people around her, with a single look could she make someone understand her plight? More importantly, would they aid her?

Anwyn could not help but think it should be so easy, to slip quietly from her horses back and loose herself amongst the milling crowd though a single warning look from the hulking brute, Enid, was quite enough to keep her seated in the saddle.  
They rode slowly through the cobbled streets, Anwyn had been in the company of Armelle and her hired brutes for so long it felt disorientating to me amongst so many again. , Anwyn tried to look at everything at once, filled with an ever growing sense of panic that welled within her, threatening to utterly overcome her. It was sheer chaos; bodies pushed against her horse, bumped against her legs, stone walls cornered her in every direction she turned. Archways crossed over head head, blocking out the sky. It felt tight, everything was too close to her and she forced herself to breath though her fear even as beneath the heavy folds of the cloak she trembled.

They cut down a street that was not as tightly crowded, Anwyn felt as though she could breathe once more.

Anwyn had become more acutely aware of the stranger that was following them though she was afraid to fully turn, she did not trust anyone here and for all she knew it could be yet another wolfshead whom served Armelle.

Though if she understood Armelle’s expression in the least, the woman appeared intrigued by the tall figure who openly followed, she reined in and motioned Enid closer. Anwyn drew in rein, her gaze carefully downcast.

“Anwyn, come along” Armelle called, her tone was light but she heard the underlying tone which demanded to be obliged.  
They rode on and eventually Enid returned to them, he was red of face and his skin was sheened with sweat.

When at last they stopped, Enid dismounted and strode to her horse, grasping her by a slender wrist still reddened and blistered by the burn of roughly woven rope and forcefully pulled her down from the saddle. 

Enid dragged her roughly into the house, needlessly for she was far too tired to resist. They walked past Armelle and she heard a snatch of conversation, that the lady of this house was expecting a guest for dinner and she preparations were to be to be made and the finest wine to be purchased. For the briefest moment Anwyn felt a flutter in her chest at the thought of who the guest could be, was it one who Armelle had traveled all the way to take Anwyn and bring her to? Anwyn forced the thought away, for now it served no purpose to her.

Briefly touches of opulence could be glimpsed at in in large empty house though it was strangely empty, no great tapestries hung from the walls, there were no tables of chairs. Enids heavy footsteps echoed off empty walls. If Armelle was indeed of great wealth as she so claimed, her home did not reflect this.

Upwards they went, up a flight of steps. Anwyn found her footing as best she could though Enid’s long stride far outpaced her, as he also loomed over her in height.

At the end of a corridor he kicked open a door and dragged her within, wordlessly casting her down upon a bed and then walking out. Anwyn heard a heavy bolt slide into place.

At once Anwyn was on her feet. This was the first time since she had been taken from Rohan she had been left alone and she would not let this unexpected chance escape her.

At once her eyes fell upon a narrow window along the far wall, it was not wide but wide enough she was certain she could push herself through. Looking down she saw there was not too a great a distance to the ground, but it was still to great where she could simply throw herself out of the window and land on the stone beneath without harming herself.

Going to the bed she tore away the blankets and with trembling fingers began to fashion a knot. Anwyn did not understand Armelle’s designs for her, she did not wish to understand them and she would not willingly linger to learn more of them. Looping the knot around the thick wooden rod which supported a thick set of curtains Anwyn flung the blanket out the window.  
Taking a breath, she then followed slipping through the window and grasping onto the blanket as tightly as she could, slowly climbing downwards her elbows scraping against the stone wall where her booted feet could not find purchase. Though stil she went, fear outweighing the painful burning in her shoulders. There was a creaking sound above her and she guessed that the wooden rod could no longer hold her weight when it finally gave way with a loud crack and Anwyn tumbled downwards to the stone street below. 

Having been thrown from a horse times beyond count, she did not tense but allowed her body to go limp in order to better accept the impact of the fall and so she landed upon the stone but was mostly unhurt and fear brought her quickly to her feet again, even as pain shot up her leg she ignored it. Blood roared in her ears and she was momentarily stunned.

From the window above came a furious bellow which drew her immediately back into the moment and Anwyn bit back a terrified shriek and turned and ran, as fleet of foot as she had ever been in her entire life and slipping as silently as a shadow into the night.


	10. Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter written by Spiced_Wine

The extremely dull meal was broken by the interruption of Enid, bringing with him a smell which Vanimórë associated with wallowing hogs.

''Hast thou ever heard of soap? '' he drawled, earning him a minatory glance from Armelle, as she snapped, at the intrusion:  
''How dare you enter here?''

''The girl, Lady," Enid hissed. "She has gone.!

''What?! ''

''She climbed from her window.'' His eyes slithered to Vanimórë, who looked back.

''Dear me.'' he murmured.

''The little...'' Armelle drew a controlling breath. ''She is mad, poor child, touched in the head, which is why I am looking after her. A time in the city seemed as if it might give her something else to think of. Well, do not stand there like a stook of hay! Look for her! Send some-one to your men! And go yourself!''

She paced the room after he had gone, raising her eyes to Vanimórë.  
''I am sorry for this, lord, but I am terribly worried for her.''

I wager you are. Now, what would you want her for? To blackmail her mother and the husband? Faramir, steward of Gondor?

''I can find her,'' he stated calmly.

'' You can? '' Armelle stared.

''Yes,'' he said briefly.

''I would be so grateful.'' she stretched out her hands. ''The poor child will become lost and frightened!''

Vanimórë strode to the door. ''There are worse cities to become lost in, trust me.'' He sketched a bow.

Leaving a very perturbed woman biting her lip and uttering words no lady would have admitted knowing the meaning of, Vanimórë spoke into Enid's mind and found him a few moments later, a sheen of sweat on his brow as he waited.  
''If thou shouldst happen to find her before me, which I doubt, I will know,'' he said, and tapped a finger to his head. ''Do not let my honey sweet tones in any way lead thee to believe I am not giving thee an order. Now, go!'' A reek of sweat was left in the air as Enid left.

Extortion...oh it was easy enough to see, and the young woman's age would make her birth about the time of the War, and therefore Eowyn's before marriage. Extortionists usually ended up dead. Vanimórë considered it a stupid business unless handled delicately, because, sooner or later, no matter how rich, the one being gouged for money would come to a point where enough was enough and take steps to render the problem moot by killing the extortionist. It could indeed work, and for a long time, but it always reached its limits. A clever extortionist would walk away after a time; he did not think Armelle was particularly clever; there was an imbalance in the tone of her mind, feelings of hate and jealousy and lust.

Vanimórë bent his mind to Anwyn's spirit, and the city she had plunged into. Although Minas Tirith was a place of elegance, and strength and Law, it had received an influx in its population since the War, and many births and it was not a city which could spread outward. This resulted in a certain crowding, and the usual vices attending it: thievery, violence, gangs. No doubt the City Guard did all they could, but Vanimórë knew cities, and men were men in whatever culture or land. Nowhere was without crime, nowhere ever would be, in any Mortal realm.

He touched a thread of the girl's soul.

The gates.

At this time of night the streets were patrolled, but in the shadows and smaller alleys lurked those creatures always on a look out for easy prey. Vanimórë drew his hood up and strode down the street. The moonlight was blocked as he passed through the gate to the second level. Somewhere a bell tolled.


	11. Murder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter written by Anwyn

Anwyn had always been faster than her brothers. 

They were all tall but her brothers were strongly built while Anwyn was slender and long legged. As she had grown she had endured no small amount of teasing from her brothers that she possessed all the grace of a spindly leg filly. This had deeply bothered her when she was small, for when she wanted to grow to be large and strong just like her brothers she kept growing taller and taller instead.

Though there would come a time at last when they played at foot faces, she could easily outrun them for she could run the fastest and the furthest until they no longer teased nor challenged her.

Now such swiftness served her well though this was no game, there was no laughter or boasting. Anwyn ran filled with fear for her very life, through streets and down narrow passageways the city a blur of hard gray and shadow and she did not know where she was running to.

If her brothers were with her now, she would have no need to run. They would protect her as they always had. How dearly she missed them, and knew she must escape the city if she ever hoped to see them again.

The image of the gates looming above her rose in her mind, the sight of them had frightened her but now she wished to return there for as far as she knew it was the only way to escape the city. 

When Anwyn could run no further she stopped and looked upwards but she could still not see the gates. There was nothing that felt even vaguely familiar, and she had been far too overwhelmed earlier. At the least she knew she had put some distance between herself and Armelle, even if her hired dog Enid would undoubtedly pursue her, the stupid brute Anwyn thought bitterly.  


Her leg was throbbing and she stomped it down against the stone, she could not allow it to slow her.

On the street ahead light spilled out onto the stone, above an open door was a wooden sign depicting a farrier’s hammer resting upon an anvil. From within there were voices and laughter. Anwyn drifted closer, hesitating briefly then gathering herself strode forward and up the single step into the tavern.

Blinking owlishly against the bright light of many lit lamps Anwyn looked around, and her eyes fell first upon a large man who stood behind the bar, his expression soured as he looked up at her.

‘Get out’ 

‘Please, Help me’ Anwyn pleaded taking a step forward, her voice cracking ‘I need help’ 

‘I’ll help you’ Anwyn turned to a man who sat near the door as smiled at her revealing crooking yellow teeth, he spread his legs and gestured to his lap ‘Have a seat ‘ere’ 

Scandalized and disgusted Anwyn took a step back.

‘I will have not have filthy night moths coming in here’ The man behind the bar, the owner of the tavern it seemed, was murmuring as he slapped a filthy rag over his shoulder.

‘Get out!’ Came the stern demand again and Anwyn fought back tears, exhausted and pained she still managed to still stand straight backed in defiance of the repeated commands to leave.

‘Please’ she tried again willing her voice not to falter ‘I am Anwyn, daughter of Beorn of Rohan and I have been kidnapped and brought to this city by the Lady Armelle. I have escaped and I need someone to help me. Please’

The man’s dark gaze slid to the back of the tavern and Anwyn’s followed, there sat a group of a dozen men, large tankards of ale sat before them but they all wore light mail under steel chest plates. 

‘A friend of Lady Armelle’ The tavern keeper sneered gesturing towards Anwyn.

One of the men rose, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve and Anwyn saw upon the front of his breast plate a white tree.  
King’s Guards.

Apprehension mingled with relief fluttered through her though looking at the man’s face that too was quickly wiped away.

‘A friend of Armelle, Certainly. There are so many’ The guard drawled sarcastically as he strode forward, reeking of ale.

‘Did you not hear me?’ Anwyn asked her tone brittle, as she felt upon the very verge of screaming.

‘Come with me’ The man ordered gruffly and reached out to take her arm and Anwyn spun deftly away and was out the door and into the night once more hearing the calls to stop but she did not heed them. Anwyn ran until she reached the end of the street where it turned sharply, and she slipped into an alleyway. From an adjoining street she heard voices, they shouted and swore. Called out her name and threatened. They cared not for who heard them. 

Enid.

And he had not come alone.

Wild panic took her but she could not run, she could not see them, she could run right into them and they were close. The only chance she had was to hide and wait till they had gone past. Wooden crates and barrels littered this alley; Anwyn pressed her back against the wall and slid down. Scarcely allowing herself to breathe and squeezing her eyes tightly shut. Willing herself not to focus on the sounds of tiny scurrying feet nearby.

More voices joined them; Anwyn could not forget the voice of the guard she had encountered just now at the tavern too soon. Enid spoke in a quieter tone; she could not hear his words distinctly but she could well guess what lies he told. 

The groups parted and Enid barked order to his men to search. When something rustled nearby Anwyn bit back a cry of fright as an old, painfully thin man pulled himself from underneath a pile of crates. Despite her own current peril, Anwyn’s heart clenched at the pitiful sight. 

‘Here’ he rasped motioning to the spot where he had just emerged, unnoticed to her ‘Hide here’

Anwyn bit down upon her lip and shook her head. How should it be that the one person she had encountered who had the very least to offer, would be the one to give the most? 

Beneath ropes of filthy matted white hair, the man’s blue eyes were startlingly bright as he straightened and looked down upon her with the ghost of a small upon his lips. ‘I would look upon one last thing of beauty before the coming of night’ He murmured and without a further word he shuffled out of the alleyway.

Moments later Anwyn heard Enids deep rumbling voice ask the man if he had seen a ‘straw headed woman’

The man laughed, it was like the sound of old parchment being rubbed together. It was a noise utterly devoid of mirth. To Anwyn, it nearly seemed oddly defiant.

Enid roared and there was a sharp cracking sound. Enid cursed loudly and Anwyn heard a second sharp crack, and a third. 

Anwyn dared to lean forward and look out from where she waited hidden, and was filled with sickness as she looked upon the body of a man who had moments before spent his last breaths in an effort to save her, a woman he did not know, broken upon the stones. Enid raised his large booted foot above the man’s body and brought it down. 

Crack.

With a wild screech Anwyn leapt forth from her hiding place and ran towards Enid who stunned took a step backwards as Anwyn fell upon him, beating against his chest with her fists, though he does seem to even feel the blows. 

Anwyn does not care, a man has died and it is her fault. White fury fills her and she hits Enid again and again even though her fingers feel as though they will break.

When strong arms grasp her from behind and drag her backwards she kicks out at Enid managing a glancing blow against his shin, the man does not flinch, and his expression remained one of dumb surprise.

Anwyn twists her body wildly against the arms that hold her; she sees a glimpse of steel and knows that the City Guards have come. Though she fought back against them as they try to restrain her, planting her feet she pushes back and the guard tumbles to the ground dragging her with him, Anwyn smells the ale upon him and briefly glimpses at his face, the same guard who had taunted her at the tavern. Two more guards seize her arms at the shoulder and drag her upwards.

The broken body of the old man is before her and she looks down at the wrong angles of his arms, and his neck. Anwyn fights back another wave of sickness, she no longer fights and her knees go out from beneath her though the guards hold her upright.

Enid points a thick dirty finger at her; his men behind him nod their heads in agreement.

Anwyn is dimly aware that he is speaking. 

‘She attacked him, like a wild animal, when I tried to stop her she then attacked me’ Enid was saying.

‘No!’ Anwyn planted her feet and tried once more to twist away from the guards who are holding her ‘I did not kill him! He helped me! When you would not’ she spat furiously.

‘It is true!’ One of Enid’s men was shouting over her ‘She is mad!’

A murmur of agreement when up.

‘You saw for yourselves’ Enid spoke accusingly as he glowered down at her, his fists curling and uncurling at his side. 'She attacked me' Oh how it must burn him, Anwyn thought, to confess he was attacked by a woman. 

‘Do not believe him you fools! He is paid by Armelle to lie!’ Anwyn shouted to be heard over the loudly spoken accusations against her by the men who stood for Enid.

One of the guards twisted her shoulder and Anwyn yipped in pain 'Silence' He hissed in her ear, his breath warm against the curve of her ear 'The Lady Armelle is well loved, and you would do well to not speak against her'


	12. Dark Savior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter written by Spiced Wine

Vanimórë was still walking , as he felt the overwhelming flood from Enid's mind and metaphorically clamped his fingers around it.

_Thou didst find her. Where?_

The ruffian's silent reply was not in words, but in garbled images, and he saw an inn sign, which he had observed before, in the first level, before Enid's mind became too crowded with both fear, hate, and a low cunning of what he could do to better his situation.

He heard the altercation before he saw it: Enid and his men facing a group of City Guards, one of which was holding a struggling figure with disarrayed flaxen hair, and between them, a crumpled body, dead, as Enid proclaimed the girls madness, and the young woman protested vehemently.

Vanimórë parted the hired bullies by the simple expedient of walking through them.

'' I come from the Lady Armelle's,'' he said calmly, a deliberate contrast to the now silenced babble of voices.

'' I told her I would find thee.'' His last words were addressed to the young woman. He did not wish to alarm her by speaking into her mind at this time, when already she must be shaken, and believed mad by the soldiers.

''You are a ... friend of the Lady Armelle's? '' The captain asked curiously, taking in what he could see, which was a rich, heavy robe, the hood drawn up, but the spluttering torchlight showed a face like an alabaster mask, and an aloof, cold beauty which the man had only seen before on the rare times the queen's brothers visited the city.

'' I know her. '' Vanimórë replied with brevity. ''We dined this evening, I promised her I would find her young charge.''

'' Well...sir. '' the guard responded carefully. ''This is a serious matter now, and the Lady Armelle must be informed that her charge is held on suspicion of murder.'' A downward tilt of the head. ''We must take this one to the Citadel. ''

'' Murder? Interesting.'' Vanimórë stopped and turned the body of the old man, and the rich threads of gold and silver in the cloak winked, a scent arose from them which somehow evoked visions of hot, languorous lands, plashing fountains, and dark pleasures.

''Thinks't thou she kicked this old beggar to death? '' He rose, his eyes boring into Enid's like twin lance's. The man's throat dried as he realized that even in the dim light he could see their burning colour.

'' She is mad, sir," he blustered. "People in a mad rage do not know their own strength."

''She must have a kick like a Mearas to have broken those ribs. '' His voice was smooth as he ostentatiously regarded the woman's slender feet in soft boots.

''All right, so here thou hast several....er... several.. people , '' He indicated the group with Enid. ''And here is a slim young woman. Now, whom wouldst thou lay a wager on being able to kick a man to death? ''

The guard's face set mulishly. ''Mad people can be very strong, sir. They often have to be locked up. We have to take her in. ''

Oh, one of the thick-headed, unimaginative ones, who simply took orders because their brains were incapable of actually thinking out anything for themselves.

''Then I will accompany thee,'' Vanimórë said. ''After all, mad people cannot be held accountable for their actions can they? I would hate to think that in a city so enlightened, ruled by a mighty King, that this poor, insane girl might be ... roughly treated.''

There was little the guards or Enid could say. He and his men melted away, as Vanimórë impressed on him to go back and tell Armelle what had occurred. The procession marched upward, passing gate after gate, so that one dog-legged back on one's route to cross through all of them, such was the design of the city. The wind increased as they rose , and the bulk of the great citadel loomed. Then they were within and passing down well worn steps.

Vanimórë knew he could have killed the guards and got the young woman away. But he also knew they were only acting under orders. By and large, he was fairly law-abiding; he had ruled a city himself. There had to be laws, no matter whether they were broken or not, or no place would run efficiently. Besides, knifing five Gondorian soldiers and leaving Minas Tirith was not what he had come for. He would not have felt any guilt, but he would have considered it unnecessary .

It would be going against Fate to take the woman away. A long time ago he had felt the same touch of fate on the young Mirkwood prince Legolas, when coming upon him captured by orcs. He had not known why at the time.

She is supposed to be here.

'' I will speak to her for a moment,'' he said, as a cell door was unlocked and Anwyn taken inside. The captain locked eyes very briefly, to protest, but he was meeting and trying to match a will which had been tempered in the fires of Angband and Mordor, and he wilted under it.

'' Knock when you have finished, sir. ''

As prison cells went, Vanimórë had seen worse. Not one muffled scream issued from anywhere, and this impressed him, since few were the rulers whom did not resort to torture.

This room was dry, and a pallet lay in one corner, and there were vessels for the body's needs.

As the heavy door clanged shut, he swung off the cloak and draped it around Anwyn's shoulders against the chill.

'' Do not worry,'' he murmured. ''I do not work for Armelle, nor was I going to take thee back to her. But killing guards whom only uphold the law... '' He shrugged. ''It is not necessary. Armelle does not want thee locked up or dead, and I should think the punishments for madness are not the same as those for cold-blooded murder." 

He considered her. "I think I am going to speak to the king. I believe he will be interested in your case, daughter of... Rohan. ''


	13. Stranger and Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter written by Anwyn

A figure moved into the light of the torches, and it seemed to Anwyn that the starry night sky seemed to have gathered and take form. Anwyn could not help but to openly stare, she had never in her life seen and Elf. They lived in her mind only in the tales her father told. There could be no mistaking it, though she had never traveled and was young and yet unlearned in many ways she knew what she saw, even if she could scarcely believe it. The realization left her momentarily dumbstruck, and she ceased her struggling against the iron clad grasp of the guard.

It could not possibly be missed how also the large fierce Enid seemed to fear this man, backing away with his head bowed as though he were a beaten dog. The way his eyes had lowered, every movement and gesture spoke of submission. Perhaps, if her present situation were different Anwyn might have taken some satisfaction in such a sight.

Anwyn pressed herself back, as though she could somehow hide herself from this Elf and his eyes, their color and light so unlike anything she had ever known. The sight of which filled her with both fear and awe equally. Anwyn drew back unconsciously, against the steel breast plate of the guard who stood close behind her.

Eyes narrowing suspiciously as the Elf addressed her, Anwyn’s jaw set defiantly. This night could not grow stranger to her, but she would not allow herself be taken alive back to Armelle, the thought of what punishment her escape might merit frightened far more than anything else. Armelle was utterly mad, and Anwyn knew she had but glimpsed at the surface of her cruelty. There would be no escape from her a second time. 

Anwyn’s gaze unconsciously kept returning to the broken figure before her, and she fought back the bitter bile that welled up in her throat. Even as it sickened her, she did not wish to forget this man’s sacrifice, and it pained her deeply to think he had died needlessly.

The guard holding took her pressing back again him as an open invitation to greater familiarity and when his hands strayed upwards from her waist. Without a moment’s hesitation Anwyn drove her elbow back sharply into his exposed gut beneath his armor. If being the raised the sister of four elder brothers held any advantage for her, they had taught from a very early age how to discourage any unwanted attention from men.

The guard grunted as he doubled over, his grasp around her arms grew tighter. Though with a soft curse under his breath he drew himself up again, he did not retaliate against her, it would seem Enid was not the only one unnerved by this new arrival.  
Anwyn watched from the corner of her eye as Enid turned away, those who followed falling into line behind them. No doubt he went to tell Armelle of what had happened this night. 

Willing her feet to move as she was led away by the guard, Anwyn shivered from the cold as the higher in the city they climbed the winds seemed to pass straight through her, her unbound hair was tossed wildly about. As they walked she kept her eyes downcast, filled with a burning shame. Paraded as though she were a criminal through the empty streets, suddenly she felt relieved that no one here would know her.

Once she had dared lift her eyes and Anwyn glimpsed at high pillars carved from flawless white stone, but she was guided away from that fair sight.

Down stone steps now and her step began to falter, her breath coming quicker. Down further, the stone walls seemed to push in further towards her; the streets now seemed wide in comparison. The cold was momentarily forgotten, and now she trembled with fear. The closeness of this space frightened her. 

A heavy wooden door was opened and she was lead inside, the grasp around her arms was loosened and she was released at last. Anwyn quickly drew away away from the guard, pressing herself against the stone wall.

From beneath a thick mass of tangled dirty hair Anwyn raised her eyes and gave a small start of surprise, the Elf was so silent she had not heard him enter the cell and her uncertainty was not lessened as he removed his beautiful cloak and put it around her, which she quickly gathered about herself as she felt stiff with cold.

Anwyn stood a pace away, stiff and extremely weary of this stranger. Beneath the folds cloak she held herself rigidly. The bruises from her earlier jump from the window were now aching terribly. Every inch of her body told the tale of her long, difficult journey with little to no rest. Once she might have considered herself hearty and hale, now she was upon the verge of collapsing from exhaustion.

As the Elf spoke, she studied him intently; lingering on the strange inflections of his tone. 

Now Anwyn was still and silent once more and her posture loosened beneath the heavy folds of the cloak. Its weight strangely reassuring, it carried a strange but not at all unpleasant exotic scent and she breathed deeply of it and as the Elf spoke Anwyn felt relief surge through her, she sunk down to sit upon the side of the small cot.

“I did not kill that man,” she said at last, when the shock had worn away enough to allow her to speak “He tried to help me when no one else would”

Anwyn then wondered if she should say anything more, she pressed her tongue to the back of her teeth, her mouth felt uncomfortably dry.

In respect to all else that had already happened, there seemed no danger in asking, though Anwyn was also uncertain if she wished to know the answer. 

“What has Armelle told you? Of me”


	14. Secrets Unabound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter written by Spiced Wine

''The woman told me nothing, Lady. '' Vanimórë he rapped sharply on the door, and a guard's face appeared in the small opening. ''Bring some wine, Dorwinion, and food. '' He passed two heavy gold coin stamped with the head of King Elessar. into the man's hand. ''Food, not pig swill, and now, not tomorrow. ''

After the man had gone, he turned back, set his shoulder against the door, effectively blocking the opening.

''She told me nothing, save that thou wert her mad young kinswoman. I have seen enough people touched in their minds to know that is untrue . But I do know whom thou art.'' He continued: ''But first, eat and drink wine. And then, if thou doth wish, I will tell you your mother's name. ''

Not the father's. Not yet.

The food came quickly enough, a platter of still hot roast beef, apples and a flask of Dorwinion wine which deserved a better housing than the clay cups which was all there was to serve it in.

Vanimórë saw the frayed and worn edges of the woman's mind, too many shocks, a flight through the streets, accusation of murder, and little to eat or drink all day. He waited, while she ate, and the rich wine added a measure of calmness. After, she should sleep, it would not be too uncomfortable and she had the cloak, but she would not sleep with the unanswered question knocking at her mind, for it held, in its way, so many answers.

''Armelle was engaged in blackmail.'' His voice slid quietly into the quiet. ''Which began when thou wert born. To keep the name of thy birth mother secret, like all those who engage in such activities, she became greedy. She did well from it, a house in this city, fine clothes, jewels. I doubt she was a welcome figure in Rohan, and dared not approach thee before now, but so few know of it, that she might go there without being ejected from the land. From seeing her thoughts it is clear she wanted to use thee to obtain more from her source, but there are other things in her mind which thou wouldst find...unsavory, I think. '' He lowered his voice. '' Armelle does not know who got thee, whatever she may have said.''

I do, but the ramifications are far reaching and I think it is not for me to reveal it.

"But she does know who birthed thee. Thy mother is the sister to Eomer King: Eowyn, White Lady of Rohan and Princess of Ithlien. And thou must have been engendered very close to the time of the War of the Ring. ''

He took a sip of wine, allowing her time to assimilate this. It would be a great deal to take in, he knew. Although his own childhood and upbringing had been...as they had been, he had been around men so long he knew that legitimacy was always important, and the higher the blood the more so it became. Since Vanimórë was in every sense illegitimate, a child of rape and black sorcery, he considered people paid too much heed to such things, but he did comprehend it. Had Eowyn been able to keep the child, doubtless she would have. Few mothers would give away a newborn from choice.

He wondered, as he waited, whether Armelle had enough influence or money for bribes to have the charges against Anwyn overlooked, and thought that if this matter was brought to the king's attention, then an arm of protection would be spread over this young woman. Armelle might find herself in these same cells.

How easy would it be for an unknown to gain audience with Elessar? Or should he simply announce he was an ''old friend'' of Legolas Thranduilion? That would probably get him in without a fight. But he wanted to ensure Armelle did not grease the palms of the guards and disapear while he was away. He could track her like a hound, of course, but Armelle was not entirely sane and accidents could happen. He would have a serious talk to the guards on duty, when Anwyn slept.


	15. Trust.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter written by Anwyn

Anwyn did not yet feel safe, only placed slightly further from danger, at least for the moment.

The sudden surge of strength that filled her and driven her earlier flight through the streets had waned and now vanished entirely, leaving her feeling only worn and tired.

Wearily she watched every move the man, Elf, she silently corrected herself. Though he seemed genuinely kind.

So too had Armelle, at the first.

Anwyn was not distrustful by nature, though days past had had pushed her to feel otherwise. Even as her mind urged caution Anwyn had not been given any reason to fear or distrust this Elf. Kindness, however it came, should never be refused.

The ground she was on too strange to her, she had been pulled from her own home and all she knew so cruelly and now felt only unbalanced and terribly alone.

As the food arrived Anwyn was acutely aware of the hollow achewith in her gut. Anwyn had always had an admittedly a healthy appetite and during the journey she had been given only stringy dried meat and hard bread, water from whatever stream they passed. It had been enough to sustain her but little more.

Pride and upbringing would not allow her to move too quickly but she needed little encouragement to eat as she felt utterly ravenous and could not recall anything tasting so good in her entire life.

After first seeing to her hunger Anwyn drank deeply of the wine, so unlike anything she had ever tasted with warmth that slid down her throat and into her belly. It was not at all an unpleasant feeling, the first warmth she had felt in quite some time

Though it was a great deal more potent than anything brewed by the Rohirrim and it did not take much till she felt her eyelids growing increasingly heavy and wanting to fall. It would have been so very easy to sink into the bed then.

When the Elf spoke again Anwyn regarded him with a gaze that had been softened by the wine, though her mind was now much calmer she was no less curious or intent to hear him. 

_Who birthed thee_

The next words spoken Anwyn could scarcely comprehend, her mind took them and broke them down. The words, she knew them but they made no sense.

The realization of what she was being told hit her body like a blow and Anwyn flinched, and as though some unseen string keeping her upright had been cut and her head fell forward into her hands.

Eowyn, the White Lady and Princess of Ithilien. Though she still lived, she was spoken of with all the reverence due to the warriors of old whose tales were still told many years beyond their death. Anwyn knew of her, there was not a child of her lands that was not raised on tales of her bravery.

Anwyn knew that she had been born into the time of peace that had followed the war of the ring. Never had her father made any mystery of her birth and so she had never been given reason to raise question. There was no need to seek out a fire if there was no smoke. If this Elf spoke truly, how could Eowyn have kept such a secret from so many?

Though the question answered itself Anwyn realized, for what could a woman who had disguised herself as a man and ridden thus for three days not conceal?

Anwyn felt ill at the thought that she had been brought here, to this city, in plot against such a noble, brave woman. Even as an unwilling part as she was. Anwyn allowed herself to feel a small amount satisfaction now that Armelle’s plan had been waylaid even if meant that a charge of murder was presently being held against her. It was a sickening realization that Armelle had used her for the whole of her young life against her lord, the King. More than her King now, if what she was told was true, the King was also her uncle. It was not difficult to reason that he would pay a fair price to keep one of his own line safe. 

Absently Anwyn lowered her hands from her face, absently running one hand through her long hair, dirty and snarled as it was. The color of all her brother’s hair the dark gold of ripe wheat, her own was many shades lighter, a pale flaxen gold. Never before had she truly considered this.

If she could allow herself accept what seemed impossible, it left a strange sense of clarity in its wake. This Elf seemed to have no stake in all of this, what could he gain by lying to her? If it were not for him coming fourth against the guards, the night might have taken a much worse turn for her after she had fought back.

It pained Anwyn deeply to know now that her father, whom she deeply loved and respected, had lied to her when he had called her his own daughter. Also that her brothers were not truly her brothers, not by blood. That her mother….Anwyn squeezed her eyes shut, fighting back tears. All of her life had been a lie, one which she had happily lived out.

It left her feeling shattered. The pain was too great, too private and so she fought it back lest it overcome her completely. Perhaps some part of her already knew, as she had grown older she saw how different she was from her brothers. Though it she was a daughter while they were all sons. They all looked so much like her father, but she did not see herself when she looked at her mother either who was shorter and heavy set though incredibly strong just like like all of her sons while Anwyn was taller and willowy. 

‘Thank you’ Anwyn said at last, her voice scarcely louder than a whisper. If what she had been told of the Elves was true, she had no reason to raise her voice lest it be carried beyond the door. To the guards that waited there, for all she knew they were also being paid from Armelle’s purse.

‘What of Armelle?’ Anwyn asked aloud though _ How shall she be punished?_ Was the underlying silent question not spoken aloud. Even if the charges made against her were dropped, Armelle was still out there. It was a thought that would not allow Anwyn to rest easy.

As the Elf took his leave of her and the door was closed once more, Anwyn sat alone. Staring blankly at the now closed door. 

The cloak wrapped around her slender form carried a lingering reminder of the presence, it carried his scent. It was a reminder that she had not imagined what had just transpired. 

Anwyn drew the cloak closer about her as though to shut out the world as she slowly lowered herself down on to the pallet, drawing an arm up beneath her head. Her world had been changed more in a single moment than it had her entire life.

Though her thoughts were many her strength was none and exhaustion finally took hold and at last Anwyn fell into a deep dreamless sleep.


	16. Innocence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter written by Spiced Wine

'' There is naught that can be done at this moment,'' Vanimórë said. ''And thou shouldst sleep if thou canst. I intend to speak to the guards and return, by dawn. Do not be concerned, no-one will touch thee,'' he promised as he was let out of the cell and walked to the guards chamber set just within the doorway.

'' Now listen to me.'' He leaned his hands on the table, locking eyes with the captain. ''I do not want any-one coming in here, and releasing that Rohirrim lady unless it be the king.'' At the smoulder of anger, he pushed a piece of parchment from a small pile and picked up a quill. ''I do not want her going astray. Write down that thou didst bring her in and when and sign it and thou,'' he looked at another soldier, the one whom Anwyn had hit in the stomach. ''Thou wilt witness and so will I. And then I will take it, so that it, also, does not go missing.''

''This is uncalled for!'' the captain growled.

'' Is it really? What kind of prison art thou in command of? Every-one is surely recorded, their offense and the time they were taken? No? I am going to the King, and I will be back, and I want to see that the woman is still here and unharmed.'' He stared at the young soldier. ''And undisturbed, or I can assure you, I am going to make thy lives a complete misery.''

Ruffled, the guard hissed: ''Who are you anyway? How dare you walk in here, tell us...''

''Oh, I am no-one.'' Vanimórë scattered sand on the parchment, then shook it off. ''I thank thee.'' He ran lightly up the steps into the night.

There were guards wearing the winged helms of the Citadel at the great doors, who crossed their long spears at his approach, for it was before the dawn and few were those whom came at such a time.

''Halt and declare yourself,'' came the brisk order.

''I am named Vanimórë.''

A lantern was raised to shine into his face.

''You are Elf, sir? '' Elves were accepted here. Vanimórë needed nothing further to ensure his entrance, as he had known from the beginning.

''Of course. I am a friend of Elladan and Elrohir Elronion. I will take chambers,'' he added offhandedly, as if quite used to walking into a king's palace uninvited.

_Tut, tut. It really is too lax of thee, Elessar_, he thought, amused, as a sleepy servant lead him up stairs and along a corridor to a doorway.

He did not light a lamp, or the fire, but walked to the window. The king would doubtless be sleeping at this hour. Standing on the narrow balcony he leaned back, precariously, his eyes tracing the windows and smiled, and began to climb.

So high up, the windows were wide, and probably had been torn wider in the years since the return of the King, to allow in air and light. They were glazed, but pushed a little open on this spring night and moved inward easily enough. Soundlessly, Vanimórë climbed into the room.

It was an antechamber, he saw. Rich rugs covered the floor and cushioned settles and chairs stood about a low table whereon reposed a bowl of dried flower petals. Hangings draped the walls, and from a hearth came the last glow of a dying fire. Two doors lead from the room. One must be the bedchamber.

Elessar, his voice reached through the aether. Elessar

After a few moments the door opened and the king entered. He had donned a loose bed-robe, but in his hands gleamed the long, deadly shape of Anduril, Narsil reforged, the Flame of the West.

He said softly, dangerously: ''Who are you? ''

''My name is Vanimórë.'' He bowed. '' And I am here to impart some important information. So important that I am afraid I did climb to thy room, but as thou wilt see, it was necessary. ''

''There is a young woman taken by thy guard, King Elessar. On charges of committing murder. They have said she is mad.''

''Why do you come to me on such a matter? Climb into my room? Who are you? '' The great sword gleamed in the last embers of the dying fire. ''Speak. You are of Elf blood, I see that. Dark like the Noldoli remnants in Imladris. Yet you lack their courtesy.''

The answer was accompanied by a flashing, white smile of genuine amusement.

''Then I apologize , Lord King. But there is need of haste. Wilt thou allow me to speak on her behalf?''

'' I will, since this intrigues me.'' And so did this man. His accent was strange, but the pronunciation perfect. Elessar looked for weapons and saw none, but he also knew this meant nothing. The clothes were rich, and severe yet the whole appearance was oddly alien.

''Long ago, I rescued a youthful prince of Lasgalen from being tormented by orcs, '' Vanimórë said. ''Though one might call me an...outcast. But I bear love toward the Elves and no malice toward thee. A woman formerly of Rohan rode in this day with a group of hired ruffians and a younger woman. The elder saw me, and sent her bully to invite me to dine with her. When I arrived, she explained that the girl was travel weary and resting. She was apparently not weary enough not to escape from her window and run; whereupon madness was added to her afflictions. And so I searched for her, and found her, in the arms of guards, a dead beggar at her feet whom had been kicked to death by the hired men of her keeper. They accused her of the deed and of a fit of madness.

"Such might be cause for the King to intervene and see justice done. For she is as sane as thou art. However, there is just one thing more.''

''Say on. '' A frown was between the King's dark brows.

''I am...Peredhel, Lord King, I am very old, older than thy once mentor Elrond of Imladris. There are certain things I can see.'' He gestured with long fingers to his head. ''The young woman was kidnapped, to be used to exhort coin, as she has been so used unwittingly all her life. A wise ruler would cast his protection over her.''

He wondered why he did not reveal whom she was. Perhaps he decided it was not for him to say, that her legitimacy, or birth should not weigh on how she was treated.

''And one of the guards got a little over familiar with her,'' he added. '' She should not long be kept in the cells.''

No-one could say that the King was not decisive, nor that he would shrug the task onto other shoulders. Eomer was his staunchest ally and friend, his Steward, Faramir, wed to Eowyn. There was a great deal that was strange about this Half-Elf, but Elessar, from both inclination and from familiarity, did trust those of Elven blood.

So intent was the king that he did did not see the silent shadow which followed. Vanimórë did; tall and slender, it ghosted after them and then they were treading down the steps to the prison cells.

'' Wait here, '' the king said, as gave orders to the guards who hurried to obey. Vanimórë leaned back casually against the stone wall, earning a glare from the man whom had fondled Anwyn. Then the guard's came to attention again as a young man walked through the door.

His long black hair was sleep tousled, but his eyes were very bright and startling, almost white under thick lashes, and his long-legged coltish grace reminded Vanimórë of Elgalad when he was very young. Favouring Vanimórë with a curious look, he said: ''What brings the King here at this hour?''

''A madwoman, my prince,'' muttered the guard.

''A woman of Rohan.'' Vanimórë's clear, accented voice corrected, and Eldarion strode across to the cell, unabashedly opening it, and stepping inside.

''Turning out to be an interesting night, no? '' Vanimórë murmured as he folded his arms.


	17. Her Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter written by Anwyn

Anwyn awoke with a start.

For the briefest moment she had forgotten where she was, but she knew the sound of a heavy wooden door opening and felt before she could see another presence in the room. Pulling herself up to sit upon the pallet, with her back pressed against the stone wall, the hood of the cloak fell over her face and she could not see who had just entered. Then she heard the door creaking open once more. 

Reaching up, Anwyn moved to pull the hood away from her face and as she did so the look of shock upon the King’s face mirrored her own. 

An unintelligible sound fell from her lips, it might have been a small plea for forgiveness had shock not wiped her mind of thought.

Anwyn had seen the King of Gondor only once before, she had glimpsed him from a distance as he had rode past the city beside Eomer King. She had never forgotten how her heart had been lifted to see the banners of Gondor and Rohan lifted high and waving proudly in the wind at the head of a mighty procession lead by the two kings, her father rode at Eomer King’s side carrying his standard. However, the young man who stood silently at the Kings side she did not know, though from his features alone she could easily guess. 

‘You are Rohirrim, Lady’ The kings voice was soft and deep, yet carrying an undercurrent of authority. It was not a question though still thoroughly dumbstruck Anwyn could only mutely nod. 

‘An Elf came into my rooms to speak to me of you. I am told you are in need of my protection’

Anwyn said nothing.

The wine had woven a hazy web over her thoughts. Still she was trying to understand how now the King and Prince of Gondor had come to be in this cell with her.

‘What is your name, Lady?’ 

‘Anwyn’ Came the quiet response then ‘Elessar King’ quickly followed as an afterthought.

‘Ah, then you know me’ The King smiled down at the frightened woman. Though the as he looked down upon her more and more he was struck by her striking resemblance to one very close to his heart.

‘Do not fear Anwyn , no further harm shall come to you’

Eldarion, who stood silently at his father’s side, took in the sight of the woman. From her tangled dirty hair to her dirt smeared face, apart from the color of her hair and that an Elf had come to speak on her behalf, he could not understand why his father would choose to come and speak with her at this hour and why it could not keep till the morning.

‘I was kidnapped from my home, by a woman of your city, Lady Armelle’

The Kings dark eyebrows shot up at this ‘I know her. Say on’

‘She came with hired dogs, and when I refused to go with her they did this’ Lifting a hand Anwyn drew back the hair at the side of her head where her head had been struck against a wall, it was matted with dried blood and there remained a still sizeable lump. 

The King started forward and Anwyn shied away.

‘It needs to be tended ‘ere corruption of the flesh sets in’ Aragorn explained patiently, his tone kind. 

Anwyn considered this for a moment then sat still flinching only slightly as the King gently touched the still tender flesh with skilled fingers.

‘Why would they do such a thing to you?’ Aragorn asked me worked. Anwyn worried her lower lip for a moment before answering. 

‘Armelle believes that I am a child born outside of marriage and that she might gain coin in exchange for my safety, she claims that she was once my wet nurse and that she has been well paid all these years for her silence. I do not know what has changed, but she sought me out. I do not believe her; I do not think she is able to tell truth from lies. When I would not come willingly, she had me brought by force and threatened to leave me for dead if I would not obey. Once we arrived in this city, I escaped from her house. I did not wish to be part of her plans’

The King had stopped and was studying her skeptically.

Anwyn dropped her eyes to her hands which were folded in her lap ‘I know’ she murmured quietly ‘But I swear upon my honor it is true’

‘How did you escape?’ This time it was Eldarion who spoke, he had stood quietly against the door with his arms folded across his chest. He had been so silent Anwyn had nearly forgotten he was there.

‘I went through a window. I tied a blanket though though it was not long enough so I fell’ As she spoke she reached down and carefully slipped off her boot and lifted the ruins of her skirt slightly, her one leg had several large bruises blooming starkly against her pale skin. 

This too the King examined, gently feeling along her leg ‘Swollen and bruised, but not broken. A poultice would set this to right’ 

Anwyn carefully pulled her boot back on and continued.

‘I ran as far as I could. I went into a tavern for help but they would not believe. I did not feel safe with the guards so I fled from them too. The man who was killed tried to hide me, and when they found him...’ Her voice drifted off. 

‘You tell quite a tale, Anwyn of Rohan’ Elessar’s voice broke into the silence ‘But you still have not fully answered my question, why you?’

Anwyn’s gaze slid telling away at this, she had met their gaze evenly when she had answered their questions truthfully but now she felt reluctant to say anything further. Feeling the weight of the Kings steady gaze upon her, she took a breath and finally yielded.

‘I am Lady Eowyn’s Daughter

There was a sharp intake of breathe from Eldarion who then exclaimed ‘Impossible!’

Anwyn regarded the Prince unflinchingly ‘I do not know for certain if it is true. It is what Armelle has told me and now the Elf who came to my aid this night. I wish nothing from her. I only want to return home to my family’

The King was silent, contemplating this new revelation. Then at last he spoke to Anwyn ‘How old are you, Lady?’

‘I was born in the year of Kings’ 

‘Father, surely you do not believe her?’ Eldarion exclaimed, his tone heavy with disbelief.

‘I do not ask you to believe me. I do not want any gold. I truly want nothing, and would have no part in such a plot. I only ask for leave to return to my home and family’ Anwyn ignored the accusing tone of the young Prince; she had endured far too much this night to suffer any further grief.

‘It is not my opinion the lady has lied to us, thus far. Nor do I believe she is mad, as has been claimed’ The King said at last ‘I shall send word to Lady Eowyn in Ithilien to warn her of such a plot. You shall remain here, under my care, until this has been resolved to my satisfaction. I understand your desire to return to Rohan, Lady Anwyn, but I do not believe you are yet fit for such a journey’ 

Anwyn bowed her head, it was not what she had hoped for but it was far better than being left here.

As they walked out, the guards eyed her with expressions of distrust but Anwyn simply lifted her head higher as she walked past, they would not dare mistreat her now. 

Up the stone steps and out into the cool air, in the distance Anwyn saw the first pale light of dawn. Her stride faltered as the lands the light touched she did not know. 

The Prince drifted close to her side, and with a voice pitched low so that only she could hear ‘I still do not believe you’

‘I do not ask you to’ Anwyn said simply, giving a simple bow and moving to where the King stood waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'The Year of the King' not a canon thing but something that I came up with as I don't think the Rohirrim are as inclined to remember years but number but more events, Anwyn is twenty five at the time of this story and was born in 3019 which is the very beginning of the fourth age and the year that both Rohan and Gondor saw new Kings ascending the throne and so I think that is how she would remember what year she was born as opposed to a year or what age she is.


	18. The Great Citadel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter written by Spiced Wine

The dawn wind whipped the hair as Elessar lead the way up the steps. Shapes were beginning to rise out of night shadows as the sun broke in the far east, painting the great side of Mindolluin rosy, and flashing from the Tower of Ecthelion. Below, the city was quiet, dark.

Vanimórë paused and bowed. ''I will attempt to find the Lady Armelle, '' he murmured. ''If she considers her bargaining tool may now face murder charges, she may elect to leave and put as much space between herself and Lady Anwyn as possible.''

Who was he? wondered the King. The air of absolute confidence in himself, the princely bearing, the stamp of a warrior, Elessar knew those signs well. '' I wonder very much who you are,'' he murmured. Yet there was no sense that this strange Peredhel was playing any kind of game, he simply seemed to have taken it upon himself to see an injustice set to right.  
His son was less accepting. ''This is too strange, and you must also want something.''

A low laugh came, a gleam of white teeth. ''In time. Nothing that thou wilt not want to give, I assure thee." He winked. "So suspicious, so young? Perhaps the...Valar lead me here, and encouraged the Lady Armelle to invite me to her house.''

Eldarion seemed not to know what to say, Aragorn glanced at his son, put out a hand to touch him and said:  
''You stay in the city? Where? ''

Vanimórë looked a little amused. ''When I vouchsafed I was Elven, I was shown to a chamber in thy palace, Lord King.'' He had to enjoy discomfiture his words evoked.  
''But while here, I lodge at the Athelas Inn. ''

'' I know it. As a guest in my city, and as part of this business I ask that you remain there, for now. ''

'' I will remain, for a time. ''

'' Guards will be sent to this woman's house.''

'' Send them by all means, but I wager I can bring her back more quickly. Give me until the next bell and have guards waiting for me.'' Vanimórë bowed and melted into the dawn.

***

Armelle hurled an armful of gowns into a chest. That the foolish girl was now taken by the city guard did not suit her plans, especially if Anwyn laid her whole case before those who would judge her. They might believe her mad, but also they might make efforts to check the strange story of her kidnapping, since Anwyn was Rohirrim. Armelle would leave Minas Tirith for now, and Enid would remain here to report to her, and when things calmed again, she would return. Or if not...it was easy enough for a woman with connections and money to hide. And she would meet Anwyn again, she had plans for her quite apart for using her to hold as a threat over Eomer King.

She snarled, in irritation as she swung a cloak about herself and pattered down the stairs to a litter which lay outside. As she climbed in, a hand came about her mouth, and an arm locked about her waist. Her nostrils filled with a deep, exotic scent.

'' I have already paid the bearers to carry us to our destination, Lady," a voice murmured. "Do not scream, just relax, sit back. ''

A bubble of astonished laughter welled up in Armelle's breast, and she pressed back, wriggling against the hard body. Desire sparkled through her as she felt lips touch her throat and she moaned, and when the arm loosed enough to allow her to turn, she dived into the kiss, giving herself up to the hands which were so expert in their touches.

She blinked hazy eyes as he broke the caresses and hot kisses, and rose, drawing her out with him, into a flood of dawn sunlight...and her jaw dropped open as she realized just where she had been brought to.

Lunging wildly to break free, the light hold moved to her wrist and became steel, as she was hauled bodily toward the waiting guards in their winged helms.

''A ...delivery, for King Elessar, as promised,'' Vanimórë said, and the captain, whom had been told to watch for him bowed and sent one of his soldiers with the news.

Shrieks rent the calm morning as Armelle tried in vain to release herself, raining kicks and blows upon her captor, which seemed to affect him as little as gnat bites. Her eyes glared through her disheveled hair as she turned to scream at the king, who ascended the steps with his son and looked at her.

''She was leaving,'' Vanimórë told Elessar. ''I simply paid the litter bearers to bring us here, and kept her... occupied.''

''Very neat,'' the King said, with a faint, surprised smile which looked as if it might have been laughter had the situation not been so serious.

Vanimórë winked as he turned and walked away, saying over his shoulder: ''The Athelas, lord King, if I am needed. ''


	19. You do not know me

Eldarion waited till the ringing of twelve bells before leaving his chambers and making his way upwards to the houses of healing.

His father had seen fit to tend the woman himself in the early hours, Eldarion had not understood why as her wounds did not seem so great, a novice healer might have tended to them with ease. Though the King had been adamant he would tend to this woman himself, even though she seemed fearful of him she followed silently without compliant. 

There was still so much that he found strange and it was heavy upon his mind, and he intended to seek out his own answers.

The Prince paused beneath a large archway to speak with an elderly healer who nodded and gestured to the gardens beyond.  
There was a quiet stillness to be found here that could not be found anywhere else within the walls of the city. It was a place of healing of the heart and mind, not only the body. Eldarion strode through tidy rows of planted herbs.

Along the far wall of the gardens three wooden crates had been dragged and stacked atop each other, and perched atop them stood the Rohirrim woman, her body pressed flush against the wall and hands grasping the edge and she was using her arms to pull herself up to look over the wall.

Eldarion halted, trying to make sense of the strange sight before him. Then distantly he heard music, and he realized that below them must be the square where musicians often came to perform for coin. 

Pale golden hair that been snarled and dirty had been washed and was combed straight and fell freely about the woman’s slender frame, the filthy rags she had worn had been replaced with a crisp white linen gown. 

‘Lady-‘ Eldarion started and the woman turned so suddenly that the precariously stacked crates shifted and began to fall, Instinctively the Prince moved to catch the woman but felt only an air of movement as she leapt nimbly away landing upon her feet. 

‘I am sorry, I did not mean to startle you’ Eldarion started awkwardly even as the woman took a step away from him. When he had first set eyes upon her she had appeared worn, dirty with large wounded eyes

Now she looked straightly at him, the layers of dirt had been scrubbed away leaving nothing to distract from her high cheeks, the sharpness of her gaze and the frown quite obvious upon her lips. 

‘Why have you come?’ 

Eldarion was so taken aback by the woman’s boldness that he could only stare at her slightly aghast.

‘You have told me that you do not trust me, and so we have nothing to speak of’ 

When Eldarion did not respond the woman turned upon her heel and began to stride away but Eldarion reached out and caught her by wrist, she turned so sharply he thought for a moment she meant to strike out at him.

‘Please, hear me. I spoke poorly and I wish to apologize’

‘Then release my hand, and I shall give you my ear’

Eldarion loosened his grip and Anwyn quickly pulled back her hand, holding it against her chest protectively as though Eldarion’s touch had caused some harm, her expression now more weary than stern. 

‘The Lady Eowyn has long been a close friend of my family. There are many who would claim closeness to her for their own gains. I would not see her used so’

‘I ask for nothing from the Lady Eowyn. Only to be given leave to return to my own lands’

‘Those men who brought you here have not been found. They may still be near and wish to harm you as Armelle is now under the guard of my father and they have not received whatever payment they were promised. Word must also be sent to Lady Eowyn’ 

Anwyn’s pale grey eyes widened ‘Why must word be sent?’ 

‘If there is any truth to what Armelle claims, and you are her daughter, then she would want to know you have been found safe’

Anwyn gave a low laugh utterly devoid of any mirth ‘I would not look for truth in any of Armelles words. Also, I was never lost. I was where I belong, with my family’

Eldarion did not understand how this woman could seem so certain; not appearing to even give a single thought that she was not of the same blood of the family that had raised her. 

‘How do you know they are your family, Lady?’

Anwyn’s eyes flashed angrily ‘What concern is it to you? Perhaps I was not born a Prince of a grand city of stone. My life has been a simple one, but it is my own.’

‘I meant no offense, Lady. Though if the Lady Eowyn is your mother-‘

‘She is not!’ Anwyn cried throwing up her hands ‘Do not say such a thing! It is not true!’

‘How do you know?’ Eldarion pressed, he could not fathom why the woman would refuse the Lady Eowyn, who was a noble and very kind woman.

‘You do not know me. Yet I know my mother. She is a very strong woman who raised my brothers and I. The woman who taught me, cared for me when I was sick, and picked me up when I fell. Perhaps she did not carry me within her body, but she is no less my mother and I will hear no differently of it. If the Lady Eowyn years ago had a child who she gave away in disgrace, then that was her choice’

As she spoke Anwyn had turned away, her long hair covering her face and raised a hand to briefly touch her face, then hastily pulled it away. Eldarion thought he might have glimpsed tears but the woman’s eyes were bright, her jaw set determinedly. 

‘I do not wish to be known as a reason for shame for the Lady Eowyn’

‘I do not believe this would be so’ Eldarion offered kindly and was surprised when he received a small, though genuine smile from the Rohirrim woman and though he dared not speak it aloud, Eldarion thought that this woman looked very much like Eowyn when she smiled at him.

‘You are kind, Prince Eldarion. I…I am truly sorry I spoke so rudely. I miss my family very much and this place is so very strange to me. I can find neither rest nor find any peace here’

Eldarion knew that his father had secretly dispatched two riders that very morning each carrying a sealed letter, one bound for Rohan and the other Ithilien. Now the Kings attention had been drawn towards more pressing matters, and the young Prince had taken it upon himself to learn what he may. Though the more he spoke with the woman, it became amply evident she was just as bewildered as any other by the strange scheme that she had been so unwittingly dragged into.

‘There is no need to apologize, Lady. Though if you would do me the honor of joining me at a feast to be held this evening, I would be most grateful’

The woman’s pale grey eyes widened and she quickly shook her head ‘I thank you Prince Eldarion…But I shall remain here. If the King wishes to find me, I must be here’

Were Eldarion to be truthful, he would confess that it was not a gathering he looked with any particular anticipation. Though he looked at the woman before him, where beneath a guarded calm seemed as though a thin layer of ice over a deep well of wildness and he could think of no better a guest to invite to such an otherwise trying affair.

‘There shall be feasting and music’ Eldarion continued as though he had not heard her response, and he surprised a smile as the woman visibly brightened at the mention of music, he understood now what had so caught her interest in the city below.

‘I could come for a short time, Perhaps’ Anwyn said quietly ‘If it would please you and you would forgive my earlier…temper’

‘Ah, to be completely forgiven I shall also require a dance from you as well, Lady Anwyn’ Eldarion replied with a smile.


	20. Guests of Honor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first part of the chapter was written by Spiced Wine and the characters of Vanimore and Elgalad are her intellectual property and the second part of the chapter was written by myself, Anwyn.

The message came from the palace at noon, asking Vanimórë to come to the Hall of Feasts that evening.

'' Could be an interesting night,'' he murmured, looking at Elgalad who was standing at the window, and gazing because he could not help it. The silver hair touched his knees, thick as a waterfall, mirroring his rain-grey eyes.

'' Do we g-go?'' Elgalad asked, meeting his eyes with a smile.

''Oh I think so. Come here. '' He drew Elgalad close. ''One day, Gondor will be very important to me, my dear.''

This it was that the evening found two Elves being lead into the Hall, both in black, severe as crows among a flock of peacocks, one a prince, one a god whom preferred not to be known at this time. There was that kind of hush which occurs when a great many people are trying to fit strangers into their particular view of the world, and assessing looks, clothing, manner, stance and - in this case - race.

There was enough power in this large room to level Minas Tirith to the ground in a heartbeat; but it was carefully controlled power since the one that possessed it had lived so long without any power but his native strength and intelligence that he used it only when necessary.  
***

With a smile and a few polite words, Eldarion disengaged him from a group of young women who had clustered themselves about him. Though he was hardly unaccustomed, at times it could be overhwleming.

It was a scene that the young prince had played in many times. Though young, Eldarion was not naïve and understood the true reason why so many young women of the court displayed themselves so before him.

A titter of laugh went up in his wake. Eldarion was yet too young to consider seeking a wife, but this did not deter many daughters of lords who aspired to one day be Queen.

The room was a wash of color; the highest nobility of Gondor filled the room, dressed in silks and gems shipped from as far as Harad and beyond. It was how one wore ones wealth, in silks dyed the most vivid colors.

For all the grand pageantry about him, there was something small that all those around him had not seen, though it caught Eldarion’s interest; behind a large white marble pillar his keen eyes caught the briefest flash of gold.

"You do not strike me as one whom often hides" Eldarion stood before the pillar, seemingly addressing it.

Anwyn pressed herself further against the smooth stone. Invited to the feast by the Prince, she had entered the hall and immediately felt completely overwhelmed. It had struck her as an unexpected crack of thunder overhead would frighten and cause her to find shelter, and so she had hidden herself, even now she trembled faintly.

‘I promised I would come, I did promise to be seen’ Anwyn managed to respond weakly, in a low tone. This was nothing like she had envisioned, It was unlike any feast she had ever attended. 

“Come forth” Eldarion coaxed gently. Unseen, Anwyn shook her head in silent answer, a deep crease furrowing upon her brow as she glanced aside gauging the distance between the column and a nearby corridor the servants used to go back and forth from the kitchens.

Anwyn did not have chance to resist as a hand closed around her wrist and with a firm tug, she found herself pulled from her hiding place behind the column.

Several guests turned and looked on in surprise as the Prince had seemingly just drawn a woman out of the air.

Anwyn was dressed in the same simple white gown as this morning, though her long hair was now neatly braided into a crown around her head and continued in a long braid down her back. Small yellow flowers that Eldarion recognized from the gardens of the houses of healing had been woven into her braids. 

It occurred suddenly to Eldarion that the woman had not come to the city prepared for such a grand occasion, though all the same she had taken what little was available to her in attempt to adorn herself. Though her appearance was starkly different than the vibrant swirl of color all around them, Eldarion felt guilty as he sensed Anwyn’s discomfort, he wished he had not so pushed her to come.

Suddenly all too aware of those whom she had moments earlier sought to avoid turning to look upon her now, Anwyn straightened and lifted her chin. It was not lost upon her, what a strange reversal of fortune she now found herself in, that by the dawn she was a prisoner of the city, and by the time the sun had set on that same day she had become a guest of the King.

Eldarion lingered at her side, and wherever he was, the attention of others followed. It was a gesture of favor, though Anwyn at the moment did not wish for his favor, she found herself wishing that she had not been seen by him and was feeling foolish.

‘Eldarion!’ It was a woman’s voice, with an accent to it that Anwyn did not recognize and the title of ‘Prince’ all together absent from the summon.

Those about them suddenly withdrew into a low reverence, Anwyn glanced at Eldarion for guidance and saw the Princes jaw set, a small frown down turning the sides of his mouth.

The Queen stood taller than most, or perhaps it was the high way in which she carried herself. Diamonds were pinned into the depths her thick dark hair, winking as tiny stars in the night sky, and her gown was a dark blue, as she moved purposely towards them in Anwyn’s mind it conjured images of an approaching storm cloud and she found herself anticipating an onslaught.

Following those around her Anwyn grasped the sites of her skirt and dipped to curtsey before the Queen.

“Eldarion, why do you hide yourself away? There are so many who wish to speak with you”

Anwyn straightened, hands clasped before her, the Queens eyes briefly swept across her though she did not acknowledge her proximity to her son, as though Anwyn was unworthy of her notice.

‘Mother, I would like for you to meet the Lady Anwyn of Rohan’

Anwyn forced a smile and bowed her head ‘It is an honor, Queen Arwen’ 

‘It was for you that my husband was summoned away from our bed very early this morning. I trust it shall not happen again’

‘It shall not’ Anwyn forced words out of a dry mouth, feeling color growing again in her cheeks, she did not wish to elaborate as to the why it had been necessary for the King to come. Even though she knew the accusations against her were untrue, 

Anwyn still found the ordeal thoroughly humiliating. For the briefest moment Eldarion’s eyes met hers and he gave her a look that was purely apologetic.

Wordlessly Arwen touched the shoulder of the Prince and guided him away though not before glimpsing over her shoulder and giving what Anwyn felt certain was a look of warning.


	21. Elgalad Meluion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first part of this chapter was written by Spiced Wine and the second part by myself, Anwyn

Vanimórë was perfectly at ease at the feast. Not many spoke to him as he radiated a shield of aloofness which seemed to cause people veer away, although the King, also at home in any company, breached that. Once the meal was over, people left their tables, walked, sat, gathered in groups, danced, laughed, sipped wine. Vanimórë likewise rose, and walked with Elgalad, 

Pausing to watch Eldarion seemingly began a conversation with the corner of a wall; this odd behavior was shortly explained as he drew forth a young woman with pale golden hair.

Vanimórë thought that, after his initial distrust, the Prince might have formed a friendship with Anwyn, but he was not given the chance, as his mother lead him away to speak with a group of young noble ladies. Eldarion was being prepared for an arranged marriage; shown to his prospective wives. He would live a long time, this prince, Vanimórë knew, longer even than his father, and would be a great king and ally.

''The burden's of royalty,'' Vanimórë murmured. Anwyn had been left alone, which he considered ill mannered, and he swept Elgalad across to her, with a bow.

''These are more congenial circumstances, Lady Anywn,'' he remarked, smiling. ''May I present Elgalad, formerly of the Great Wood?''

Elgalad bowed gracefully. ''I am happy to m-meet thee, Lady Anwyn.''

Eldarion, watching, made his apologies and crossed to them.

''Forgive me for leaving you alone,'' he said, beckoning a passing servant, who responded with alacrity, presenting a tray of wine.

''Shall we sit down over here? '' He lead them to a grouping of stools under a great banner and drew one for Anwyn to sit.

'' And I am h-honoured to meet thee also, Prince Eldarion.'' Elgalad inclined his head.

 

***

Anwyn stood stiffly and ill at ease. Though she was now surrounded by so many, she felt completely alone. Those who glanced her way did so only in passing, before continuing to other conversations. They moved about her as though she were a rock in the middle of a stream, a simple obstacle easily passed.

It would have meant so much to her to receive a single smile, a kind look, any acknowledgement that she was there and drew breath but she received none.

If she had slipped into the feast without notice, it should not be so difficult to leave just as quietly.

Yet just as she was about to turn and retire from the feast she caught sight of the tall dark Elf striding forward, and she felt a strange flutter within her breast and her cheeks flushed slightly. For all the finery, there was not another present who could command such attention. Whereas Anwyn had stood and those assembled moved about her as though unaware of her presence, the guests of the party parted before the tall Elf and openly stared as he strode passed, seemingly unaware of the looks he received. 

Anwyn had wondered if she would ever see the Elf again, it seemed impossible that she had seen an Elf once and inwardly she felt most humbly pleased, for in the Elf she had glimpsed a friend and ally, a thing at the moment she felt she was sorely lacking.

To her equal surprise and delight she saw the dark elf had come with another, just as tall though as fair and golden as the other was severe and dark. There was a look of open sweetness upon his face, as gentle as the dawn she thought to herself.

For the first time in some weeks, Anwyn allowed herself to smile, genuine and true for she found the soft slightly halted tone of the second Elf immediately most endearing.

“It is true, Master Elf and I am grateful. And I am most honored, Elgalad” Anwyn spoke as she inclined her head slightly to acknowledge the Elf’s greeting.

As Eldarion returned Anwyn glanced briefly towards the group he had excused himself from, If only the Prince had known of the sour looks that followed his departure.

“There is nothing to be forgiven” Anwyn replied simply by way of acknowledging his apology, as she spoke she turned away from the group of women though she felt their stares burning against her turned back and so it was she was relieved to be guided to a more private area, and accepted the goblet gratefully.

The base of the goblet had an intricate design of leaves etched into it, Anwyn absently ran her thumb along the design though did not move drink from the cup. 

Once her mother had told her that nothing was done without reason that unseen the winds might carry a tiny seed a long distance from where it had first began, but as insignificant as it might seem, nothing is ever done without a greater purpose.  
It was not difficult to feel small and lost in a place such as this, a place of nobility and great power.

To feel as unsteady and unsure as a new foal taking slow and cautious first steps. Anwyn felt it, young and wide eyed, thrust unwillingly into some tale slowly unfurling as she sat taking wine with Elves and a Prince, in a place of Kings.  
It was nearly enough to make her laugh incredulously aloud at herself.

Anwyn imagined that there would come a day ahead where she would sit with her father and she would look upon his face, and how the fine creases earned over years from both laughter and sorrow would deepen as he would laugh, frown. Or at times simply remain silent with wonder as she would tell him all of her tale.

It would be, Anwyn thought to herself, as she brought the cup to her lips, one worth telling.


	22. Of horses and Men

The two days that followed the feast did not allow for any idleness on the part of Prince Eldarion. There were times where the Princes life was thus, there were matters of the City which required his father’s knowledge which the Prince while still considered young was privy to these meetings. There were also many lessons the Prince was expected to attend, he rarely found himself with little to do.

It was on the morning of the third day that Eldarion was given leave to spend the day however he saw fit. It was early yet and the day promised to be warm. It brought to his mind thoughts of leaving the city to find a cool woodland pool to swim in. The thought of leaving the city made him think of another who would most certainly wish to join him.

The gardens of the houses of healing were empty and silent, as were the halls save for the hushed whisper of a healers robes and the gentle fall of footsteps. 

Eldarion found the chambers that Anwyn had been given and was not in the least surprised to find them empty. The blankets upon the cot were neatly folded and there was a tray with bread crumbs, an apple core and an empty water pitcher. 

The Prince found a healer who recalled bringing the Rohirrim woman food with which to break her fast but did not recall seeing her since then. Others confessed to the irritated Prince that they had been too absorbed in their own duties to keep eyes on the young woman. Eldarion trampled down his frustration, Healers were not guards, and they indeed had tasks of far greater importance to tend than to watch over a young woman.

Wherever Anwyn was now, after some searching Eldarion was certain she was not within the Houses of Healing. This filled with him with a cold dread, the woman had hinted she might try to leave the city even if the King did not grant her leave to go and his thoughts then also moved to the paid ruffians who had taken her from her home in Rohan, what if they had found her here and taken her again? What if she had tried to leave on her own and found herself in even worse hands? He did not want to think of it. 

He should find his father, but that would take time that perhaps he did not have. If Anwyn was in danger, he would ride out and find her even as he silently cursed her, why had she simply not listened?

There were no grooms in sight, likely having already completed their chores earlier in the morning and now resting till it came time to turn out the horses. 

Eldarion, in his haste, did not have the mind to summon anyone to assist him; he was more than capable of bridling his own mare. As he drew closer Eldarions hurried steps faltered as he possessed a sense of hearing far keener than that of most men and above the sounds of the stables, of the rustle of straw as the horses moved about in their stalls he could hear a voice speaking in soft whispered tones though in a language familiar to him but he did not speak. 

Pushing back the bolt to the stall Eldarion pulled back the heavy wooden door and there reclining upon a high mound of straw was his query.

‘Anwyn’ Eldarion breathed sinking against the stall door with a small shake of his head as a small smile played across his lips.

‘Prince Eldarion’ Anwyn replied airily as though utterly unaware of any trouble. A crown of braided straw sat upon head, another that was in the process of being braided sat in her lap and Eldarion noted his grey mares long mane had been neatly plaited as well.

‘What are you doing here?’ Eldarion asked, more than slightly at a loss for the sight before him, as his mare gently nuzzled the woman’s shoulder that in turn smiled and rested a hand against the horse’s nose.

‘Your father asked that I not leave the City. I gave him my word that I would not and I have not. You cannot expect me to remain within the houses of healing, I do not belong there. I am not ill. I have a found place more agreeable to pass my time while I waited. Did you think I had escaped? I have done that already, and I still feel it at times’ Anwyn winced slightly as she pushed herself up. Looking the Prince straightly in the eye she added ‘I would not leave without first saying Farewell’

‘I heard you speaking in Rohirric, what were you saying?’

‘Oh, it merely an old child’s tale but this fine lady seemed to enjoy it’ Anwyn placed the now finished straw crown between the mare’s ears. 

‘You speak Rohirric as well as the common tongue, Lady Anwyn?’ Eldarion asked, intrigued. 

‘Yes, my father thought it was important that I learn the common tongue of men as well as how to read and write. Not all women of my country can’ There was an underswell of pride in the woman’s tone, though as she spoke Eldarion saw the sadness that touched her eyes.

‘You miss your family’

Anwyn raised her eyes and looked at him straightly ‘It pains my heart with every beat to remain parted from them’

Eldarion glimpsed away, he could not grant her the guards that would be needed to safely escort the lady home again. Yet perhaps he could do something to distract her troubled mind for a time.

‘Come with me’ The Prince offered his hand and Anwyn accepted without hesitation, he drew her up and she paused to brush the straw off her skirt. 

‘Where do we go?’ Anwyn asked following into step beside him.

‘To find you some riding clothes’ Eldarion replied as Anwyn still wore the same the same white simple gown and she halted, and shook her head ‘I do not need any clothes to ride. I can ride in naught but my skin if I must, why is what I wear of such importance?’ 

‘I meant no offense, Lady Anwyn. Though you wear the garment of one under the care of the houses of healing, perhaps you would be more comfortable dressed…differently’ Eldarion finished awkwardly feeling the weight of Anwyn’s stern gaze, as she stood with arms folded. 

‘Very well, I shall wear whatever you wish if you will take me riding beyond the walls of the city for a time’

Eldarion found a groom and tasked him with returning the palace to find suitable riding attire for the lady. Impressively, the groom returned quite quickly and presented the lady with a long flowing gown of deep green with white embroidery across the bodice and the long sleeves trimmed with lace, it had high slits up the side to allow a woman to comfortably sit in the saddle, and was worn with dark brown leggings to maintain a ladies sense of modesty

Eldarion remembered his mother wearing it long ago, and often when the Queen retired a gown she permitted her handmaidens to take what of her cast offs they wished, what was left was placed into wooden crates and kept as not to be wasted. The Prince thanked the groom for his cleverness and discretion and Anwyn accepted the bundle of clothing and was conducted to where she might change in privacy. 

The groom then hurried to bridle and saddle the Princes mare, Lamri, who was lead forward with ears perked forward and eyes bright and eager.

‘And what horse shall I prepare for the Lady, Prince Eldarion?’ The groom asked as he handed over the reins.

Eldarion thought for a moment.

‘Bellant, I think’

The young groom was unable to conceal his surprise ‘My Prince that one is too much for a lady to ride…’ The groom sputtered nervously.

‘Then you may tell the lady that yourself’ Eldarion responded with a smile.

A short time later Bellant was lead out, his dark coat glistening in the early morning sun and the gelding snorted and threw his head up impatiently.

Eldarion considered the large horse and wondered if perhaps he should have heeded the grooms words when he heard quick steps over the cobbled stone and turned just as Anwyn rushed past him. 

Anwyn had changed into the riding clothes found by the groom, It was well enough for Eldarion to see her out of the white gown she had worn for so many days now, the white paled her already fair skin and made her look ill he thought. Even if the woman who had donned them seem not to have a care for what she wore.

Bellant lowered his head and the woman cupped the soft muzzle in her hands leaning forward to touch her forehead to that of the horse and murmuring a few quiet words before turning to Eldarion, her face alight.

‘He is so handsome!’ Anwyn exclaimed taking a step back to admire the horse.

‘He was sired by one of my Fathers War Stallions. He is yours to ride, if you wish’

‘Truly?’ Anwyn exclaimed with a bright smile that stole Eldarions breath, as he had that exact smile many times before, though on the face of another woman.

The groom moved to fetch a mounting block but had not taken two steps before Anwyn had thrown the reins over the horses head and swung herself easily into the saddle.

With a smile and small shake of his head Eldarion swung himself up into Lamri’s saddle.

The guards pulled back the heavy wooden gates and Eldarion glanced at Anwyn, the smile had not vanished from her face and her grey eyes were ever moving and taking in what lay beyond the gates, beneath her Bellant pranced sideways for a moment though with the slightest movement of the reins the horse quieted. Eldarion knew Anwyn had seen so very little of the city; she had not been given any choice otherwise. 

As they rode into the city many raised their hands and called out to the Prince, this brought many more to their doors and windows. Eldarion smiled and raised a hand in greeting; it did not escape his notice that Anwyn had sunk lower into the saddle, she seemed uncomfortable gathering the attention or so many, it was unavoidable he supposed.

When they neared the last gate from the city Bellants paced had quickened, it seemed horse just as well as rider were eager to quit the city. 

Pelennor Fields lay stretched out before them and on unspoken command Bellant lunged forward into a gallop. Eldarion urged Lamri forward though Eldarion knew that the small delicate mare could match the larger geldings speed or strength.  
Anwyn’s long golden hair streamed out behind on the wind like a banner. 

Bellant galloped flat out, and Eldarion knew that Anwyn would not rein him in. Though as Anwyn went he wondered if she would stop, or if perhaps she would betray his trust. Or if she would take the horse and continue all the way to Rohan upon him, the horse had stamina and could carry her far without tiring. If she did this, he could not catch her, not if she so wished.

Eldarion slowed Lamri and called out to Anwyn, gesturing for her to follow and he saw the woman’s head turn slightly but the horse continued to gallop forward.

Then, after some time, the horse began to turn it’s pace never faltering as it galloped towards the Prince and it’s pace dropping down to a trot. Anwyn’s face was flushed pink and her hair was blown and tangled by the wind, though she was giving him that now very familiar smile and her face shone with mirth

'You have that look again’ She called out to him, laughter in her tone ‘I told you, not without a farewell!’


	23. In Good Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Spiced Wine

The Rammas Echor, or Fenced land, spread out like an offering before the city, crossed by paths for wagons and horses. The orchards were in thick bloom, and kine grazed the spring clover. From the city Gate, to the northernmost point of the outwall, was somewhat over three leagues. Those who wished to go hunting or hawking, first had to ride beyond the Rammas, which was, in the main, one vast farm, producing milk, cheeses, beef and fruit.

Vanimórë had taken a path which lead close to the black, scorched ground where the Witchking's beast had been burned, and here the horses were restless, snorting and balking. Not far away was a green mound where the grass grew long, and this was Snowmane's Howe, the turf laid over the great horse of Theoden Ednew.

''Prophecies do have the most unexpected ways of coming home to roost,'' Vanimórë murmured, gazing at the unliving earth, then turned away and set the horses at a fast canter north. They paused for a slow procession of carts bearing barrels of ale, before passing through the gate into the lands beyond.  
Coming to the Greywood, Elgalad dismounted and entered the trees, Vanimórë leading Tinnu's on, finding a quiet place to wait. Elgalad missed the woods and the north after time spent in the south, which made Vanimórë's decision to ultimately settle in the Harad a difficult one. Thus he had delayed for five and twenty years, becoming involved in other tales spun across the world.

Elgalad ran from bough to bough, silent, leaves caressing him, feeling, as he paused, the old lives of these great, growing things, drowsing in sunlight, swaying in the storms of autumn. Something in their awareness recognized him, greeted him and his fingers smoothed across gnarled, warm bark with a smile, before he sprang down, somersaulting, and landing soundlessly , sitting back against a bole, one knee drawn up, his hands clasped loosely about it.

He drifted close to sleep, feeling like a warm touch, Vanimórë's 's constant presence in his mind.  
He remained motionless as the sound of horses hooves approached, and recognized the voices long before he saw them. Eldarion and Anwyn. They rode close together, speaking softly, but clearly, and he was torn between allowing them to go past oblivious, or making his presence known. In the end, almost as they went by him, he rose, a figure that appeared to gather itself from the green-brown of the stem, so that the horses started for a moment.

''Forgive m-me,'' he apologized, as they drew rein. ''I h-hope it is p-permitted to be in these w-woods, Prince Eldarion?''

''Elgalad!'' Eldarion exclaimed with a laugh as he dismounted. ''These woods are free for all to ride in.'' He surveyed the Elf with the curiosity of both youth and the kinship he bore with the Elves through his mother.  
''You have no horse?''

''Vanimórë has h-him. I w-will join him.''

''Do you really speak with the trees?'' the prince asked, tilting his head.

Elgalad smiled a little. ''In a w-way."

''I am sure I will never understand. Perhaps you will walk with us? '' Eldarion felt drawn toward Elgalad, perhaps because he was not as intimidating as Vanimórë, all that unconscious, glittering arrogance of the Noldor, but held a softer light. It was only now, standing close to him, and without Vanimórë beside him, that Eldarion realized how tall Elgalad was. Under the leather of his tunic, his shoulders were straight and wide and the muscles hard under the sleeves; a warrior's build.  
'' I would l-like to... but n-not.. '' the Elf glanced at Anwyn, ''If I am d-disturbing your conversation?''

The Prince looked up at his half-sister and smiled. "Not at all. Shall we sit somewhere? I brought wine and apples and cheese from the buttery.''

The morning was becoming warm as they chose a place under the spread of an old tree, sunlight spattered the ground in dapples of gilt.

''Please, allow me.'' Elgalad took the wine and food from the saddlebags and set it out. He handed a cup to both of the others and poured the wine. Eldarion had chosen a pale, sparkling brew, not heady, but refreshing, and it went well with the herb-cheese and fresh bread he had had packed for this ride.

''I think Anwyn was feeling enclosed in the city,'' Eldarion said. ''Rohan is an open, rolling land. '' He leaned on one arm. ''I remember when father first took me, and we saw a herd of horses, running, beautiful, like silver clouds over the grasslands '' His head came up. ''We leave soon for Annúminas. The land is beautiful there, cool, green, you would like it. I hope you will come, if matters... er...permit, Anwyn. I love it there, I am rarely in the palace.''

Since Elgalad knew nothing about Anwyn, this was not a conversation which Eldarion felt he could continue. ''Vanimórë,'' he changed the subject. ''He spoke of the far south. That is where you live? ''

''Not yet.'' Elgalad told him. "One d-day. Perhaps soon."

''But you are of the Woodland Realm? ''

''I l-lived there for a long t-time, yes. Now I l-live where Vanimórë lives. W-we are wanderers." He laughed softly. "We have been to Imladris, and to D-Dale."

''I do not mean to pry, but I cannot place Lord Vanimórë, at all.'' Eldarion cast a laughing look at Anwyn. ''But my curiosity is piqued. It has been many times, in the last days.''

''There are some things I c-cannot say.'' Long lashes cast a deep shadow over Elgalad's cheeks. ''But Vanimórë is n-no enemy, I assure thee.''

''No, I do not think that. Why would he have bothered to concern himself with Anwyn's plight, if he were?'' Eldarion mused. Are you his lover? he wondered. His beloved? I think so.

The water-grey eyes looked back at him, unblinking, and knowing his thoughts.

''Have you traveled very far?''

''I was b-born in Edhellond.

The prince's brows rose.

'I have heard of it, there is talk of Elves returning there, it was an ancient Elf haven, long abandoned, near Prince Imrahil's lands.''

Elgalad nodded. ''There was n-no Dor-en-Ernil when I was b-born. Men were only then b-beginning to settle it. Rich and fertile l-lands, warm, but f-fed rain by the sea winds. I was f-fifty, in Mortal years, when I c-came to the Great W-Wood, and now, since the w-war ended, I have been to Umbar and back several t-times.''

''What is it like, in the south? '' Eldarion asked. '' I have heard many strange tales of the Harad.''

''Strange, b-beautiful in its way,'' Elgalad murmured. ''It smells utterly d-different, and the s-sun is so bright...harsh. Strange customs, and w-wars.''

''Any we should be concerned about? '' Eldarion asked intently.

"I am sure the K-King knows of the Southlands." The answer was evasive, and Eldarion recognized it, but there was no duplicity or cunning in the Elf's lovely face. "They h-have many city-s-states and often are at w-war and there is... is no D-Dark Lord now, to bring them t-together.''

Not Sauron anyhow, although Vanimórë had said many times he was not his sire. Which was true enough, whatever he was, he was not Sauron.

''You have the look of a warrior, have you fought? ''

Elgalad nodded. ''Legolas trained me." he smiled warmly.

''We could learn more of these far southern Kingdoms,'' the son of Elessar mused, then stopped as Elgalad's head came up alertly. Eldarion listened.

''I can hear them too. They are not trying to be silent. Yes, my father and mother send guards out, and I do not like to worry them, so I let them find me.'' He flashed a grin. ''My uncles have taught me how to escape unwanted attention.'' He looked thoughtfully at Elgalad. ''Could you get close to them without them seeing you?'' Elgalad nodded, rose to his feet.

''Tell me if there is one, a big man, grey hair, aquiline nose.''

Elgalad ran for the nearest tree and went up it fast as a cat and as silently. The prince strained to hear any sound of twigs or leaves, but nothing reached his ears. He murmured to Anwyn: ''Pephennas, if it is whom I think it is, one of my mother's soldiers, he often follows me.''

The Elf returned just as silently, startling the two as he dropped from a different tree.

"There are f-four guards, and their leader is as you described. ''

''Pephennas.'' The Prince's face hardened. ''This is becoming tiresome. Let us see if we can loose him, shall we? He will only wish to escort us back to the city.'' He neatly repacked the remaining food, and walked to his horse. ''Can you keep up, Elgalad?'' he asked.

''I can t-try.'' The Elf smiled. ''They are about a h-half mile b-behind you. ''

''Come then.'' Eldarion waited for Anwyn to mount, then leaped into the saddle. ''I do not like Pephennas,'' he explained. He was not one of the Kings soldiers and he always looked at the Prince in a way which was both slightly mocking, and also made him acutely uncomfortable. It was said the man had been born to a peasant family in the Langstrand, but he himself boasted of being the by-blow of the House of Dol Amroth. Prince Imrahil, with the superb manners of one truly noble-born, ignored this claim, no-one took it seriously, and there was a weight of resentment carried on the man's shoulders which gave him a foul temper. He had named himself Pephennas', which meant ''one without a past'', in mockery, liking the sense of intrigue, that he knew more than he said about his birth and bloodline. Notwithstanding he was a good soldier, and did not lack bravery. The darker stories had never reached the prince's ears, that he could be cruel and brutal. All the young man knew was that he squirmed inwardly at Pephennas's cold, sneering regard.

''With most of the guards it is a challenge now, to see if they can find me,'' Eldarion said, as he bent low over his mounts neck, for the trees were thicker here and he knew the dangers of galloping headlong through woodlands. ''And they are friends, my father chooses them....But Pephennas...he ever seems to watch me.''

He looked back over his shoulder and then side to side, seeing the Elf nowhere, then hen ahead, on a high bough arching above, he saw Elgalad standing, and grinned.

'' I will m-misdirect them,'' Elgalad offered. ''Where wilt thou g-go?''

''Toward Amon Din, and then back to the city.''

Elgalad raised a hand, ran along the branch, jumped and was gone.

''We bear north here.'' Eldarion turned his horse and rode a little way before drawing rein with a frown. He did not trust the man following him, and was unhappy with Elgalad being a decoy while he simply rode away, culling a few hours more freedom for himself.

Pephennas's mount shied at the sudden movement, just as the Prince's and Anwyn's had , as what had seemed to be nothing but another tree, resolved itself into the tall figure of an Elf with silver hair falling to his knees.

'' Forgive m-me, '' the soft voice said, as the soldier cursed and drew up, foam sprang at the bit and Elgalad saw red in it, this Man rode his horses hard and brutally.

Pephennas looked down at the figure, his soldiers behind him, his face tightening, although the expressions of those whom followed him were of men whom saw something which was rare and beautiful.

But Pephennas detested the Elder Race; he did not know them, but despised their grace and beauty their silence, and mystery. He had never learned old lore, but such tales that had come his way, he sneered at. Half of the stories surrounding the kings perilous journey to reclaim his throne, he dismissed; Elessar had come south from his northern land, and through his own warrior skills had taken the throne. Oh, he was the rightful king, no doubt; he needed no Elf magic to aid him, and no embellishments added to the legend of his journey to Gondor.

Pephennas would stare in disgusted fascination at the queen's brothers, and felt only a desire to drive his sword into their guts and rid the world of the unnatural things. He believed in Elves, he simply thought men should have nothing to do with them, that they should vanish into their forests and die-out like deer hunted to extinction in a royal preserve.

Such thoughts were in his face whenever he looked at Eldarion, with those uncanny silver-white eyes and overlong ebony hair, and he felt, as he always did, both loathing and lust.

The Queen was different, perhaps simply because she was a woman, and she paid extremely well for her little boy to be guarded. Pephennas felt the money was earned, for Eldarion had learned Elven stealth; the sneaking creatures could walk over dead leaves without a sound, and the prince was becoming harder and harder to track down.

Now, Pephennas' dark eyes narrowed on the creature whom stood before him. He had seen him at that strange feast a few nights ago. His companion of the feast seemed nowhere around, which the soldier was glad of.

''You there, '' he snapped. ''We look for Eldarion, our Prince. He came this way, have you seen him?''

It was not in Elgalad to lie; he might conceal the truth at times.

''I have, b-but...''

''Where? Which way did he go?''

The Elf stared at him with those clear, clear eyes, a faint flush on his cheeks. Skin like milk, thought Pephennas disgustedly, no weathering to show he had lived. He had seen youths like this before, in his travels south, pampered pets of stronger men.

''I s-spoke to the p-prince, he is riding with a l-lady, and wished to b-be alone for a t-time.''

Pephennas showed big yellow teeth in a harsh laugh, mocking the stammer as he leaned on his saddle-bow.

'' Oh I am s-sure he w-wants t-to b-be alone with a l-lady, '' he parodied. ''The Rohirrim wench, is it not? Well, it is my orders, Elf, to ensure he is watched and guarded in these lands. So which way did he ride?'' He urged his mount closer, and Elgalad flowed back, so that the beast did not, as ordered by its rider, overbalance him.

Elgalad's jaw set. He knew Vanimórë was close, and always linked to his mind, but Elgalad had no need of protection from such a Man.

''He w-was in the w-woods,'' He said hoping that by now Eldarion and Anwyn were not, but had gone on.

The soldier dismounted, and found himself, rather to his surprise, having to look up two inches to meet the Elf's eyes.

''Do not try and be clever with me, '' he spat. ''What was he doing, looking for somewhere private to give her a good swiving?''

The blood burned in Elgalad's face, but he looked down at this man unflinchingly and his voice was cold.

''I am afraid I d-do not understand thee. ''

'' Ha. I wager you do, I saw you with your companion in the Hall not three nights ago. I wager he swives your little arse till you bleed.'' As he spoke, his mailed hand made a grope for Elgalad's hind, and suddenly he was sprawling on his face in the leaf mold.

All the men with him had seen was a blur as the Elf span aside, and continued the momentum to leap and kick Pephennas in the backside. He hit the ground hard, the breath going out of him. Their swords half came out of their sheaths -- half, not all of the way; they were more inclined to be on the Elf's side.

Cursing, the man pushed himself to his feet and hand brought his own sword all the way from it's housing, as he spat dirt from his lips.

In his mind, Elgalad heard a distinct ripple of laughter.

''Enough! Hold!'' The guards froze at the voice, which rang with authority, as Eldarion, a blond woman beside him, rode out from the trees.

The prince's eyes were like flint. ''How dare you act so to one of the city's guests and my friend? Sheathe your sword at once! What is so important that you interrupt my leisure time and insult my friends?''

The soldier's face was beet-red. ''My Lord, your mother ordered me to find you and...''

''And I order you to cease to dog my footsteps! My father has ruled this land for five-and-twenty years, and I am capable of riding a few miles from the city without needing a guard as if I were a five year old. I have held a sword more than half my life! I want to hear your apologies, Pephennas, to my friend , and then you may go and tell my mother I ride with Lady Anwyn and Lord Elgalad and do not require an escort. And if I chose one it would not be you!''

The man looked as if he might have an apoplexy, Eldarion thought, anger banishing his usual nauseous feelings when close to this man. The red face writhed and his big teeth bared in a grimace, and he sketched a bow between them all, with ill grace as he drew himself into his saddle.

''I will inform the queen,'' he ground out words like stones. ''My Lord." His hate filled gaze devoured Eldarion, and then lingered on Anwyn, before it turned to the Elf.

''You, stay out of my way, bum-boy.'' He spat at Elgalad's feet, and then wrenched his horse about and spurred it to a hard gallop. More slowly, with backward glances and salutes, his men followed him.

Eldarion dismounted lithely and walked to Elgalad.

''I heard what he said, I am sorry, are you all right?'' At the nod, he suddenly laughed. ' I did enjoy you putting him on his face in the dirt, I would not have missed that for all Arnor.'' He turned to look at Anywn and said. "And that is why I do not like Pephennas.'' His voice became more quiet. ''There is some maggot in his brain. Avoid him if you ever see him. I think...my mother does not know Men... and she chooses ill in him.''


	24. The New Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter written by Spiced Wine

Coming to the marge of the Greywood, Eldarion saw a tall glossy brown horse cropping the grass and Elgalad went over to it, drawing up the reins as he mounted.

They bore gently north toward Amon Din, the last in a series of great Beacons, marching west toward Rohan along the Ered Nimrais. They had last been lit in the War of the Ring, bringing the Rohirrim on their legendary ride to where Minas Tirith burned...

Not far from the hill, on the east-west road, lay a sprawling inn which saw much use these days. It was a rambling, two storied building, with stables and smithies, pens for animals. A group of soldiers were in the walled courtyard, and bowed as they saw the Prince ride in, hailing him. From his greeting, it was clear that these were not akin to Pephennas; his tone was friendly and he addressed the captain by name.

A tall man calling orders into a doorway, looked up, saw the prince and hurried over. His face bore a deep scar which ran from under an eyepatch to his jaw. He went slightly halt of one foot, but bore himself in the manner of all old soldiers, and his banter to the guards indicated he was well known and liked.

''My Prince!'' he bellowed, quashing all hope of Eldarion's identity going unheard by any-one within earshot. ''You honor my house.'' He bowed and then siezed Eldarion out of his saddle with burly arms and embraced him.

''Inthan, you great troll!'' Eldarion clapped him on the back as he disengaged himself, grinning. ''Have you a quiet spot in the garden?''

''Yes, yes of course. We'll get you out of the way of this nosy rabble, and give you some peace!'' The inn-keeper cast one merry brown eye over the courtyard .

''So you will leave our prince alone then? For sure he will have no quiet with you around!'' called one of the soldiers.

''Prancing puppy! Be about your business, if you have any besides quaffing my ale!'' A ripple of laughter and threats from the guard followed them as Inthan lead them through a dark corridor, and out into a block of sunlight.

Elgalad saw that the inn was built like to some he had seen in the Harad, about a central courtyard and lined by galleries. In the hot cities of the south there was usually a fountain and some palms. Here was a garden perfumed with flowers, earthenware pots spilling a melange of colourful blooms.

Inthan lead them to a rustic table against a wall, and a comfortably rounded woman, with dark eyes which seemed to perpetually smile, laid a large tray on the table. A girl coming after her put down a roast fowl, fresh bread, butter, cheese and apples from the winter store.  
"Mileth!" Eldarion threw his arms around the plump woman, kissing a rosy cheek.

''My Lord, that is no way to act in front of your guests!'' She twinkled. ''Whatever will they think?''

''Perhaps that I mean to run off with you and take you away from a life of slavery under your old husband.'' Eldarion winked and ducked as Inthan roared a threat, which shook into hearty laughter.  
''Ay, I will even pay you, my Prince. She has a tongue on her which could singe off a hog's whiskers.'' Inthan clipped his arm about his wife's plump waist. ''Now, whom do we have the pleasure of greeting at the New Hope? You are Elf, sir.'' He bowed respectfully at Elgalad who returned it, smiling. ''And you, young lady, are Rohirrim by that hair. I only have one eye but it sees well, and its knows a beauty when it lights on it.''

''If you seek to run away with the Lady Anwyn, Inthan, I really will have to hunt you down,'' warned Eldarion, with a grin. ''The Elf is Elgalad, of the folk of the Great Wood, and indeed Anwyn is a lady of Rohan, our guest in the city for a time. But walls of stone are not for the people of that land.''

''No, indeed, I always think them like their horses, made for open spaces. '' Inthan nodded as his wife poured a bubbling golden liquid into fired earthen cups. ''We have many through here, even served King Eomer and his lovely queen a few times. This is mead of your homeland, lady.'' He addressed Anwyn, then looked shrewdly at Eldarion.  
''Not that I am not always happy to see you young Prince, but you carry a shadow of anger in those eyes. Drink up!''

Eldarion took a sip. ''We met up with Pephennas. He had been ordered to follow me.''

"Not like the king to choose that brute.'' Inthan frowned.

''He is under orders from my mother.'' The reply was short.

''Ah, my Lord, can she not be told she should not have such as he in her service? Any of the lads yonder,'' with a tilt of his head he indicated the soldiers whom had been in the courtyard. ''Would willingly serve her, and they are good fellows. That one, he is... '' His head shook.

''He is mad.'' Mileth's lips pursed as she laid the flagon on the table and stood back. ''Something black in that one. We hear tales...''

''Now, wife, not before a lady,'' her husband chided gently. ''So, where is he?''

''I told him to go,'' Eldarion said with a faint shrug. The innkeeper grinned.

''Well done, young prince. He is not welcome here and knows it, but he has much coin and I cannot rightly refuse to serve him, as he has done naught wrong. ''

''I would not ask you to refuse him, Inthan. It is something I have to deal with.'' Eldarion sat back against the warm stone wall. ''We go north soon, I hope he does not come.''

Inthan was carving the fowl, laying thin slices on a platter. He cocked a brow.  
''Surely our king knows of him, my Lord?''

''My father...when he ascended the throne...You know yourself, Gondor had thrown the best of its army into the War, and what was left was smaller and now...''

''Ay, now, every man and his dog heads to Gondor or Arnor. Impossible to know every-one. Here, eat. Pephennas and his like always trip over their own feet at the end, young Lord.''

Mileth cast a matronly eye over the table.  
''Well, I would allow no-one like that near my son,'' she announced, then dimpled at Anwyn. ''If you wish to refresh yourself, I will lead you to a private room. Just call whenever you require.'' She bustled off toward the kitchens, and Eldarion looked after her fondly. Over a bite of bite of seasoned meat, he said, ''I really should run off with her, you know.''

''Ah, that would be misusing your royal prerogatives.'' The one bright eye winked. ''And she would talk your ear off in half a day and insist you cut your hair.'' As the young man felt his hair protectively, Inthan wiped his hands on a cloth hung over his shoulder. ''As she said, rest well. We have private rooms. I'll tell my people to keep an eye out for Pephennas.''

''I am sure he returned to the city, but thank-you, Inthan.'' The Prince smiled, then, with a glance at Anwyn, ''Have there been many Rohirrim through here in the last day or so, my friend?''

The innkeeper shook his head.

''The last was over a sennight ago, a merchant bringing this mead, but now spring is here, and the rains ceased, there will be more through, always is.''

Eldarion nodded, wondering if Anwyn wished to describe her father or brother - well, her apparent father and brother, he amended and looked at her. Inthan, who had probably never strayed from his wife's side, for he adored her, nevertheless had an eye for beauty and was obviously smitten with his Rohirrim guest. Inthan was shrewd, utterly trustworthy and a good friend to have. He had been a man-at-arms during the War, and received the wound which almost killed him at the Morannon. A courageous soldier, his genuine liking for people made him a perfect innkeeper, and Eldarion had loved the New Hope since first stopping here when he was five years old, coming to know Inthan's children as friends. The youngest, at eighteen summers, had just joined the army, something which Inthan encouraged if ''his boys'' had a taste for it.

As he said: ''I joined at sixteen and served under the Lord Boromir and then there was little hope and fewer prospects, and I never regretted one day. It is a good life now, for those with the right metal in their blood.''

The eldest son and his wife helped him in the New Hope, his others were scattered as far as Belfalas and the second son had gone north to Arnor to set up a farm.

''No, bugger off and get to your work,'' he the innkeeper yelled over his shoulder, seeing some servants jamming the doorway. ''You never seen a Prince, an Elf and a lovely young woman before?'' He turned back with a wink.

''Well, mayhap not, eh? We do not get Elves through here and not this young Prince as often as we would like. As for lovely women --''

He sighed dramatically and spread his hands. Eldarion saw Elgalad hide a smile behind the rim of his cup and laughed.


	25. New Arrivals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first section of the chapter was written by myself, penname Anwyn and the second portion of the chapter was written by Spiced Wine.

There were very few times when Anwyn felt inclined to remain completely silent. Yet it was so as she sat atop Bellant, the large gelding still puffing faintly, and watched the exchange between Elgalad and the Gondorian Guard.

Anwyn could not hear what words were spoken between the two, but she could make out the sharp tone of anger in the tone of the guard.

Glancing sidelong at Eldarion whose face betrayed little, she wondered how long he would be content to simply sit and listen. This was shortly answered as the Prince urged his horse forward and she put her heels to the side of her own mount and together they broke from the cover of the bushes. If the Prince rode into any danger, she could not let him go alone.

In the short time she had sat atop Bellant she knew the slightest touch of her heels to his side and they would be far from here before any other rider had a mind to follow. Yet for their uneasy start, she felt protective of the Prince,and would give what little protection she might offer, so unarmed.

Remaining a silent presence at the side of the Prince, Anwyn took in the sight of the guards. Raised among soldiers; she could read the way the sat upon their horses, hands upon reins, not the pommel of the swords that hung at their hips. They did not wish to fight.

Save for one.

The man that Eldarion spoke with, that one made her uneasy. Bellant shifted beneath her, sensing her discomfort. Despite this Anwyn remained sitting tall and rigid in the saddle.

As the disgraced soldier made a shameful retreat, he looked at Anwyn; his gaze lingered upon her a moment too long for her comfort before he clambered onto a poor beasts back and wrenched his horses around sharply and galloped away.

Anwyn released a breath she did not realize she had been holding, her own strong sense of pride would not have allowed herself to look away, even as the ill spoken soldiers gaze had caused her flesh to crawl. 

They rode on, and Anwyn was glad to put even more distance between herself and the City, she felt it there, a waiting stone giant at her back.

It was far warmer here than in Rohan, Anwyn though as they went. Even in full summer, Rohan was cool as it was touched by the winds that blew down from snow capped mountains that boarded the lands.

Warm blood for cold lands…

Anwyn felt in better stride now, sitting atop such a fine mount she would have happily ridden all day and all night long thus though it would be fair to the spirited creature that bore her so willingly and as she was about to call out to Eldarion that they should stop to rest the horses when she saw at last what they were riding towards.

Drawing her horse back to a trot and then a walk Anwyn could see more soldiers moving within the walls of this place, she had enough of Soldiers this day but she saw a smile break across Eldarion’s and the way the stride of his own horse lengthened, rider and horse appearing equally eager to arrive.

As they entered the courtyard a young man moved forward to take Bellant’s reins even as Anwyn lightly dismounted. Uncertain, she lingered silently at the side of the large bay and ran a hand through her long wind tousled hair as she considered these new surroundings. 

New scents, which were not at all unpleasant, filled the air. Of flowers and baking bread. It reminded Anwyn of her home, re-awoke the aching longing in her chest. It was pleasant here, filled with bright warm sunlight. Of late she had been in much worse places.

The Innkeeper, for his great size and booming voice, welcomed them as though they were of his own blood. For this Anwyn was grateful, and it was not very long at all before she found herself wishing she may stay here rather than return to the Palace at Minas Tirth.

Settling herself onto bench Anwyn felt the warmth of the sun soaked wood, and she glanced appreciatively around the gardens, and the many blooms of just as many colors.

Anwyn listened intently, but did not speak as she strove to take in all about her. Though after a time she grew uncomfortably aware of the warmth in the sun drenched garden, as unaccustomed to it as she was. Feeling a drop of sweat run down her back Anwyn rose to her feet excusing herself and went to seek out Mileth.

The Innkeepers wife had not very gone far and Anwyn found her arranging flowers in an earthen pot.

Anwyn scarcely had chance to ask before she found herself being swept up the stairs and guided to a room.

Once alone Anwyn crossed the room to a basin, the water within blessedly cold. Wringing out a cloth she placed it across the back of her neck, and felt a most pleasurable shiver leapt up her back.

 

****

Eldarion's eyes followed Anwyn's departure frowningly, and Inthan said quietly: ''She will be well looked after, my Prince, you know that.''

''I know. Of course I know.'' The silver-white eyes which the innkeeper called '' Elf-eyes '' held his for a long moment as if Eldarion were weighing things in his mind.

Ah, I am proud of him, if he saw off that Pephennas -- and Mileth is not wrong about him, but I would not have this young one hear the tales of him yet.

''Thank you, Inthan, '' Eldarion said, at last. ''There is a tale here. I cannot tell you all of it, but I know I can trust you. Sit down a moment, have some of this mead which I can see you eyeing!''

''The Rohirrim make the best mead,'' Inthan admitted, as he drew a cup from the pocket of his heavy apron and poured the golden stuff. ''Well, my Prince, I am honoured with your trust. Is the Lady in trouble? You said she was a guest. I wondered if she had been invited here as one of your prospective brides.''

'' One of them? What am I, Haradhic?'' Eldarion laughed. ''No, Inthan, although if my 'prospective' brides were anything like Anwyn, I would probably not avoid them so much.'' A sudden flush coloured his cheeks and he added wryly: ''But no.'' He moistened his lips and looked at Elgalad. ''Since Lord Vanimórë had a hand in this, Elgalad, I will speak before you.'' He turned back to the inn-keeper, whom was waiting, attentively, and his voice lowered.

''Anwyn was accused of madness and murder.''

The older man's brows shot up to his frosted hairline at that. ''Vanimórë, Elgalad's companion informed my father, since he saw the truth of the matter. It became clear, when the King spoke to Anwyn that she was a victim, in fact she had been kidnapped from Rohan and brought here...Do you know a woman called Armelle?''

''Ay, that one, I do, holds herself like a high-bred lady, though she's none.'' The reply was scornful.

'' She and some hired bullies has brought Anwyn here. She discovered that Anywn is not whom she thought she was, that the family who raised her, took her in when she was a child, and she is no blood kin. Armelle had acted as her wet nurse, and knew whom she was and since Anwyn's blood is noble, no matter what her begetting, she was using her as a tool for extortion. My father took Anwyn from prison, and she has been a guest since then. She is expecting the one she called her father, to come to Minas Tirith, to find her. But she thinks highly of him, it was not really he I was thinking of when I asked if you had seen an Rohirrim.'

Inthan's drummed his fingers on the table.

''I will keep my eye out and send word to you.'' He knew there was much Eldarion was not saying, but respected him for that; the young man was learning not to reveal all his thoughts, and that would stand him in good stead in days to come.

''I mistrusted her at first.'' At times Inthan was sure the prince had the magic of Elves, and was able to read his mind. ''So many people seek favors from my father and me.''

Inthan grinned. "It must be a burden to you, to have so many ladies clustering around you for favors.'' He sighed. ''I would give five years for one week in your place.''

''You are welcome. I will take over the Last Hope and Mileth.''

From behind the walls, there came the distant, muffled sound of horses hooves and then a call from the kitchens.

''Inthan! Prince Faramir and his Lady!''

If the innkeeper had not already been looking around, he would have seen the expression of shock cross Eldarion's face, his quick look up to the rooms where Mileth had lead Anwyn.

'' They must be heading to Annúminas. Father invited them at the Midwinter Feast. '' Eldarion rose. ''I must greet them. Elgalad? Will you find Anwyn and tell her...tell her that her kinswoman, Lady Eowyn has arrived.''

Eldarion strode through the passage which bisected the inn, to the sun-filled courtyard, where a party of nobles had ridden in. Faramir was over fifty now, but the years had treated him kindly, and he still had the face and body of a man thirty years younger. His wife, save for a few laughter lines raying from her eyes, was as slim as a birch as she came down from her great mount.

''Faramir! Eowyn!'' Eldarion called, and both looked around.

''Eldarion! You're here?'' The Steward of Gondor opened his arms and embraced the prince warmly, relinquishing him so that Eowyn might be swept into a hug.

''You grow taller each time I see you!'' she exclaimed, as he picked her up and spun her around.

''We did not expect to see you here,'' Faramir said, a hand on Eldarion's shoulder, and the other about his wife's slender waist. ''We ride north, we departed earlier than expected, for Eowyn will stay with King Eomer a few days before we ride on to Annuminas.''

Eldarion nodded. ''We follow shortly, although...I am tempted to ask you to wait and ride with you. It will be beautiful at Nenuial now.''

'' We would be honoured, '' Faramir said. ''We stay overnight here. Spring is in my Lady's blood also, she would not tarry, she sniffs for the air of her homeland like a yearling filly, and would not even pause at the city.''

Eowyn laughed. ''I want to see the green and feel the moving airs.''

Eldarion was reminded sharply of Anwyn, save that there was something in the younger woman's face which was not Eowyn at all, but was still hauntingly familiar.

''You are not here alone, are you, Prince?'' Faramir asked as they followed Inthan into the garden.

''I was riding in the Greywood, with two friends, and Elf and a visitor from Rohan.'' Eldarion glanced at Eowyn, who swept her skirts aside as she sat gracefully.

''Truly?'' She asked. ''And what is his name?''

Eldarion replied: ''Her name is Anwyn.''


	26. A Mothers Love

'' Excuse m-me? ''

The serving girl turned and stared at the Elf as if he were an apparition. ''Sir?''

''Your lady, M-Mileth...she conducted the Lady Anwyn to a chamber? Could you s-show me where, please?''

Still staring, and then moving and tripping up the first step, the girl nodded, hanging back as she watched Elgalad knock at the door. "Yes?" came Anwyn's voice, and he slipped inside.

''Lady? Eldarion said that your k-kinswoman Eowyn, has arrived here, w-with Faramir.''

For a brief moment Anwyn could not help but to wonder if Eldarion had arranged this, to settle the matter of the claims of her strange birth.

Just as quickly as the thought came to her, Anwyn forced herself to release it. Eldarion had come to be very kind to her and she considered him a friend, and even more rare he was amongst the very few who had come to earn her trust. No, he would not do such a thing.

“That’s…Wonderful” Anwyn managed to say, forcing a small smile at being told this. There was very little it seemed by now that should surprise her and so she followed Elgalad, his stride long and graceful while her own was slower, uncertain.

The soft rustling of her underskirts announced her presence as Anwyn strode into the gardens. Eldarion now shared his table with two new guests she saw, a tall man with red blonde hair generously threaded with silver and a kind face who sat with his arm wrapped around a slender blonde woman who sat seated to his right who smiled brightly at something the man had just said.

Anwyn’s step faltered and her breath hitched in her throat.

Though she had not uttered a single word the woman turned her head towards Anwyn as though she had been called to.

Eowyn slowly rose to her feet and walked towards Anwyn who stood so still she may have been carved from stone.

Even if she had not been told, the seed of knowledge had already been sown Anwyn saw as easily as she could look upon her own reflection in a mirror that the similarity of appearance with this woman ran well beyond the simple common thread of being Kinswomen.

Pale blonde hair moved freely around the woman’s waist as she moved with an easy grace. Eowyn came to stand before her, the Lady’s bright gray eyes met Anwyns and there she saw an understanding that went deeper than any words could convey.

Anwyn had not wanted what she had told to be true, she still secretly harbored a desire to return to Rohan and live with everything precisely as it once was, but she would not allow herself to live a life of blissful ignorance and now those hopes were truly shattered.

Anwyn tried to speak yet only a small sob escaped and so she pursed her lips tightly together.

“I have long dreamt we would one day meet" It was Eowyn who spoke at last, choosing to address Anwyn in Rohirric.

Anwyn felt the blood drain from her face. Eowyn reached out, the tips of her finger gently brushing against her cheek. If she were not so deeply stunned Anwyn might have turned away.

“Daughter”

The world suddenly tilted wildly as every ounce of strength that held her upright was utterly spent and for the first time in her young life Anwyn fell deeply into a swoon.

***

Although Eldarion, would in time, learn many languages, including Rohirric, he was still learning at this time, and Eowyn's voice as she addressed Anwyn was so soft, that he could not hear what she said. But he could see how her hand shook as she reached out.

Anwyn suddenly became boneless, falling to the ground. Faramir and Eldarion, both coming to their feet, ran to catch them both, for the Steward saw the pallor of his wife's countenance and supported her as Eldarion lifted Anwyn before she hit the ground.

''Take her to our chambers,'' Faramir said decisively, and Eldarion called: ''Mileth? '' as he strode to the doorway.

Inthan and his wife came quickly, and the innkeeper flung open the door of a wide, sunny chamber. The bed was hung with warm, bright colours and Eldarion laid the unconscious Anwyn upon the soft sheets as Eowyn, leaning over her, drew the coverlets up, smoothing back her hair. There were tears in her eyes.

She knows, It is in her face, and seeing them together -- there is a likeness...

The scent of lavender filled the air as Mileth wrung out a cloth, and placed it over Anwyn's brow. Faramir drew a chair from near the unlit fireplace for his wife and pressed her gently down, a hand on her shoulder. Over her head, his eyes met Eldarion's. Faramir was not a foolish man, and he knew his wife very well. He squeezed her shoulder, then stood back and walked to the balcony.  
'' Let us leave them a while,'' he murmured to Eldarion after a moment. ''Call me if you need me, Eowyn."

Inthan had brought a bottle of full bodied Dorwinion to the table and broke the lead seal pouring, before leaving in uncharacteristic silence. Elgalad too, moved away, crossing to the other side of the garden where he sat down, cross legged near some herbs.

Faramir's clear eyes turned to Eldarion, who felt a blush steal up under her cheeks and took a swallow of wine.

'' I think, my dear prince, I will wait for my beloved wife to come down and speak, when she can, '' he said, considering. ''There is no hurry. Let me say this, whatever has happened I trust Eowyn, implicitly.''

''Anwyn was imprisoned, '' Eldarion told him. ''I should tell you that at least.''

At the faint, startled nod, he clasped his hands on the table, and told of how Anwyn had been brought to Minas Tirith and ended up in the dungeons. He left out whom she was, as he felt it should be for Eowyn or Anwyn, to tell it.

Silence, save for the vague sounds from within the inn and the sleepy call of a bird from an old pear tree against one wall, filled the garden. Faramir sat back and his eyes strayed up to the balcony, and then both turned as Mileth came from the inn.

''My lords, the lady is awake, perhaps 'twas the heat,'' she said, kindly. ''I am making a tisane for her, but she will be none the worse.''

''Thank you, Mileth,'' Eldarion said gratefully, and both men sat back to wait.

***

Anwyn’s bright grey eyes slowly drew open at once and her gaze came to rest upon Mileth, whose heart shaped faced hovered above her and she wondered fleetingly as to why she wore such an expression of worry.

Mileth's features then broke into a relieved smile, and she pressed the damp cloth which smelled soothingly of lavender closer against her brow “You gave me a fright” she scolded wagging a finger at Anwyn but the smile on her kind face had never for a moment faltered “Wait here child, I shall return in time”

Anwyn closed her eyes again; her head felt light as though she had drank too much wine too quickly. A hand touched her shoulder lightly and Anwyn drew away from the touch as though burned by it, she had thought herself alone though now as Anwyn looked over she remembered precisely what had brought here and sharply drew herself up upon her elbows, the compress upon her brow falling onto the sheets beside her.

“You will be well again soon, for not easily do the wild flowers of the mark wilt” Eowyn remarked as she leaned over to retrieve the cloth at Anwyns side and Anwyn leapt from the bed. 

'Steady!' Eowyn cried reaching out for her. 

Cold fury welled up within Anwyns breast, who was this woman to her, and how dare she pretend to care now? To feign concern when Anwyn knew now that as a babe she had been given to another woman to suckle, why had she been of so very little worth to this woman then? Why should she care anything for her now?

Eowyn withdrew her hand, folded both hands in her lap and lowered her head.

Anwyn set her jaw stubbornly and said nothing, starring stonily ahead.

It infuriated her, to be coddled as though she were still the infant that had been so easily tossed aside.

“Now, I know you are not a mute” Eowyn said as she leaned back into the chair at the bedside “Anwyn, Is that what you are called?”

Anwyn found her words at last “My name is not important' she answered stonily. 

Had Eowyn flinched? Surely the woman who had once faced the Witch King of Angmar could not be so harmed by words.

'Please, Leave me' Anwyn forced her tone to soften, even if she did not feel it within.

'Daughter...' 

'Anwyn, Call me Anwyn. I am not your Daughter' Anwyn met Eowyns gaze and held it till the other looked away and covered her eyes with a hand. 

Anwyn drew a shuttering breath, fought to calm the anger that sent heat spreading across her flesh. Never before had she spoken so sharply, but never before had she ever so betrayed. Though she would allow herself to accept that perhaps she shared blood with this woman there was she would allow her to hold the title of mother, it was too precious and was already held by another.

“You were wanted. Every day of your life…I have wanted to find you” When Eowyn managed to speak her voice was scarcely louder than a whisper.

"Twenty five summers. I am twenty five summers old. There has been so much time, if you truly wished to find me' Anwyn replied flatly turning away.

 

“I want you to understand” Eowyn said drawing a shuttering breath “Why…I could not keep you, and raise you as I longed to do. You were conceived in a time of war and death. I carried you into battle not knowing it was far more than my own life I risked”

Anwyn turned slightly. 

“I…had hoped I might die there” Eowyn said slowly, the words just as difficult to speak as they were to hear.

“It was not my day to die. I was called back from the darkness. Life awaited me, more than I had known. You”

Eowyn looked at her fully then, with eyes that still shone with tears.

“I had just accepted Faramir’s hand when I at last realized I was already growing large with another mans child. I could not pass you off as the child of a man whose honor had not yet allowed him to touch me. Faramir is a good, kind man. I know now he would have raised and loved you as he would as if you were his own child by blood. Though I knew then that there would always be the question of your true Father, and the truth would always be a shadow upon you. I did not want that for you, I wanted you to be free. To have your own life”

There was something in the words that carried such sincerity that Anwyn could not help but feel her anger further slipping away. 

“It was Eomer alone who I trusted with my secret. I told my dear Faramir I wished to spend sometime in Rohan before I bound my life to his and joined him in Ithilien where we were to be wed. Many times I nearly went back upon my decision, and it was Eomer who was my strength. It was Eomer who took you from me as soon as I had pushed you from my body. I think he knew, as well as I did, that I would not have allowed you to be taken. Many years passed and so many times I longed to return to Rohan to seek you out. To take you back with me to Ithilien, to raise you as it should have so rightfully been. Though I knew Eomer would have seen to it that you were well cared for”

“Yes, I was” Anwyn sat back down on the edge of the bed, lowering her head as she fought to comprehend all of what she was being told. 

When Anwyn lifted her head again she found Eowyn regarding her “You need not be ashamed of who you are”

"At this moment I am ashamed of my words and anger. Please forgive me, Lady Eowyn. It was wrong of me to be angry with you but I need some time to think upon this"

“There is nothing to be forgiven. Yes, I too need to speak with my Husband now, I think” Eowyn said, almost to herself before turning to go though stopping to pause at the doorway, her slender figure silhouetted by the bright afternoon sun.

“You have grown into all that I had hoped you would be” Eowyn said before the wooden door swung back into place behind her.


	27. Trouble in the Wind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first part of this chapter is written by Spiced Wine, the middle act by Anwyn then the last few paragraphs by Spiced Wine. Thank you.

In the drowsy warmth of the enclosed garden, Elgalad allowed himself, for a few moments to drift in pleasant memories of a time long ago. He came from this state gently, the aroma of sun-drenched herbs around him, and rose, crossing to the Eldarion and Faramir.

''I will go and see th-the horses,'' he murmured, and passed silently through the passageway out to the courtyard.

It was busier now, with the noon hour approaching, outlying farmers bringing produce to the city, others leaving after a night's rest. Crossing to the block of stables, Elgalad found Tinnu, and the other two, and spent some moments with them, before a voice entered, already speaking.

''.. I am certain, but I always see to my own mounts...''

A tall fair man passed the box where the Elf stood, not seeing him, as men sometimes did not see Elves, leading a graceful grey horse. Both man and horse were sweating lightly. There came the clang of a bucket, the rattle of a saddle being drawn off and hung upon the half-door, the swipe of brush against hide as the horse was rubbed down. Elgalad was about to leave, when a stench hit him, and he remained motionless as another man passed by, his very movements furtive. He was big, burled with muscle, and the unwashed smell of sweat came from him.

''Warrior of Rohan, I have some news for you.''

There came the rustle of straw, as the man in the box turned, said coldly: ''What? Who are you?''

''What is a name, soldier? But I used to work for a certain lady who knew your...sister.''

The door crashed in the sound of a brief scuffle as if some-one fell against it. .

''Ah-ah! I know how to use this knife as well as you know how to use that sword.''

'' Where is she? My sister?''

''Well, it is a strange tale, warrior,'' the ruffian said, mockingly. ''But she lives as a guest in the Citadel of the King himself. And more oddly, she is here, at this tavern now, came riding in with the Prince, Eldarion and some womanish Elf.''

_Vanimórë?_ Elgalad could not help his silent exclamation. _Didst thou not tell of a man who worked for the woman Armelle?_

_The reply came immediately into his mind, like the warm touch of fire on a winter's night._

_Yes. Enid. Do not be concerned, my dear. I want to see where this leads. Didst thou never hear the men of Dale say that one must not put all one's eggs in the same basket? But there are times one should; when all those eggs are rotten._

_There was a long heavy breath._

_''Say on.''_

_Elgalad stood motionless as Enid spoke in a low voice, although the words were perfectly audible to him. He could not, in any case, move, until the men departed. Then, to his shock, he heard a clear voice call his name._

_Eldarion's halted, the contradiction between the bright sun outside and the relative darkness causing him to blink, seeing Enid, but not Eadbearn, since he had drawn back._

_Elgalad stepped to the stable door and lifted a finger to his lips in warning. Eldarion's pale gaze widened, but he said nothing more, as Elgalad made a motion of going outside, and he felt, on his back the glare of Enid, as they went out into the courtyard._

_''I must speak t-to you, '' he whispered. Neither saw another man, nondescript and casual, slip out of the gates, and carry the news to some-one else who made it his business to know all the prince's movements._

_Eldarion listened, his brows drawn as the Elf told what he had heard, and his eyes went to the balcony of the room where Anwyn rested._

_''She has to know. He would surely try nothing in such a public place, but she still should know. What game does Vanimórë play, Elgalad?"_

_'' He said we n-needed all the rotten eggs in one b-basket, '' Elgalad said. ''Thou knowest he means Anwyn no h-harm.''_

_''I know nothing about him, truly, but I do not think you would be with a man who meant ill." He laid a hand on Elgalad's shoulder. "We will wait until Lady Eowyn comes down''_

_And as if his words had summoned her, there was a glimmer of cloth and a lilt of fair hair as Eowyn appeared. There were tears on her cheeks, but her eyes were shining. She hurried over to Faramir._

_"Come," Eldarion said, and ran up the stairs to tap on Anwyn's door. He spoke her name, and pushed the unlocked door a little way open._

_''Anwyn, the one you spoke of as your brother is here. '' He crossed to her. '' I am sorry to disturb your rest, but I thought you should know. He met with the one called Enid in the stables, and spoke to him.''_

_****_

_Eadbearn looked on at all around him with displeasure. Despite the warm welcome he had received from the inn keeper, he had not traveled so far for pleasantries and the offer of a hot meal. For days he had paused only to rest his horse._

_Since his alleged sister had been taken many truths had at last come to light. The least of which that she wasn't even truly his sister. There were some who now mocked his father, called him an impotent fool for claiming another mans child as his own, there were some who even questioned if he had sired any of his children. Eadbearn had broken another mans jaw to ensure he would spread not further lies against his family. His _true_ family. His father had sent him to fetch Anwyn back to Rohan, he would not refuse his father but he did want Anwyn to return...ever._

_The encounter in the stables had done little to improve his mood; his pride did not suffer the presence of sell swords, as that man most certainly was. Though good fortune was with him if his sister by some strange stroke was near, it meant he could turn his heels to the city all the sooner._

_Now with the renewed eagerness of a hound that had caught scent of a nearby hare Eadbearn stepped from the stables, allowing his eyes to adjust to the brightness of the day._

_At a nearby corner a brief flash of pale golden hair._

_Anwyn!_

_At his call the woman turned, it was not the woman he sought to find but the resemblance was striking._

_Eadbearn at once knew this woman. There was not a man, woman or child in Rohan who would not._

_Even in his present mood, he would deny her that respect that was owed and as she walked towards him he placed a clenched fist over his heart and bowed._

_“Ferthu Lady Eowyn Hal. My eyes deceived me and I believed that I saw another. I am Eadbearn, son of Beorn. I have ridden far in search of my sister, Anwyn. I am told she lodges here”_

_The woman’s face betrayed nothing though most tellingly her gaze momentarily shifted upwards, and Eadbearn’s eyes followed and above he saw a tidy row of windows._

_“Our Father has sent me to bring her home” Eadbearn continued “She was taken from us some time ago and our mother prays to Bema for her safe return”_

_Eowyn remained silent, taking in every measure of him though when her pale eyes met his, she suddenly frowned._

_Eadbearn turned away impatiently; sensing then he would gain nothing, and the silence he had received told him enough._

_He had taken no more than three steps before suddenly there was a man standing directly before him and he halted in mid stride. Far slighter in build than Eadearn but there was something to the air of this man that made the larger man halt and consider him for a long moment._

_“Move” Eadbearn snarled, an ugly sneer spreading across his face as he moved forward manacingly “You cannot keep her from me”_

_Then Eadbearn understood and rounded upon Eowyn “Now you would keep her near? My father has told me everything. You would not have her when she was but a babe upon the breast but now that she is a woman grown, you would now claim her as your own?”_

_A white hot ball of fury burned within his chest, It had driven him over many a mile. What his father had done all those years ago now brought shame upon his family._

_So in turn the need to shame and humiliate Anwyn had grown so strong; to know that his noble mother and father wept so for one not even of their blood infuriated him, to show such pitiable grief for the loss of an abandoned by-blow of a noblewoman._

_Eadbearn threw back his head and bellowed “Anwyn! Come fourth!”_

_“Eadbearn, Son of Beorn. You shame yourself” Eowyn’s voice was soft but the tone held a razors edge._

_“What do you know of shame?” Eadbearn replied savagely “You sent Anwyn away in the same moment you laid down and whelped her, do not speak to me of shame”_

_The twin spots of color that rose upon Eowyn’s high cheeks gave him sign that his words had found there mark. Yet she did not turn from him, nor did she look away she stood straight and proud, unmoved by his words._

_“Mark me, Eadbearn, Son of Beorn, you shall not force her to return with you, I will not allow it. My child or not, she is also my kinswoman and has already endured more than you know” Eowyn said coldly “Your words shall not be forgotten, nor forgiven”_

_Eowyn turned her back to him and strode away, held still held high. It was one final insult, the sudden dismissal as though he were no longer worthy of her attention. The man who had blocked his path earlier moved past Eadbearn in a whisper of movement and fell into step beside her._

_Undeterred Eadbearn turned to the steps once more._

_***_

_'' I would not try that if I were you, boy. '' Inthan stood like a brown bear at the foot of the steps leading up to the chambers. '' Warrior or no, I will still fetch you a thump across the ear if you try going up there. ''_

_'' Old man, I merely wish to see this woman who fooled me and those who took her in for so long!'' Eadbean snarled._

_''In my inn, you obey my rules, Rohan. Now be off, or be thrown out, and disgrace your land. '' A wicked-looking cleaver appeared from a pouch in Inthan's capacious apron. ''I have met Uruk's in battle, young one, do not think you can cause me to fear. ''_

_Balked, furious, wracked with his own fierce, internal needs, Eadbearn glared at him, before his eyes rose to the stairs where a tall, fair young man was walking down. No, not a man, an Elf. There was no mistaking one of the Firstborn, like and yet unlike Mortals, close enough in kinship that the two might produce children. But something in the movements, the high boned face and bright eyes was alien, and immediate antipathy rose in Eadbearn. The Elf carried no weapon, and although he was taller than Eadbearn, his stance, his walk, was too graceful for the Man to see the power in it. He sneered._

_''P-Prince Eldarion is with the L-lady Anwyn, good Inthan.'' The Elf said in a soft voice._

_''You are the sneaking thing was in the stables,'' Eadbearn snarled. ''I have marked you, Elf. '' He pointed to his right eye._

_''OUT!'' thundered Inthan and the light glinted on the edge of his cleaver._

_''D-do not trouble thyself.'' Elgalad descended the rest of the steps. ''We will all g-guard her room, until she is ready t-to depart. She was kidnapped once, so we will b-be vigilant. I am also a warrior,'' he added, rather wryly._

_''I saw your Prince at the Morannon, and before that at the Pelennor, sir Elf, I believe you.'' He bent his head and hastened away._


	28. Into the North

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Spiced Wine

While Eowyn had spent time with her daughter, Eldarion had sat with Faramir over a meal in his own room, one he had not intended to need, but the decision he had made was now set.

Since he respected the Steward greatly, he did not broach the subject of Anwyn, until Faramir did himself, and then he listened, smiling, as he heard, in the tone, even read in the body, this man's complete acceptance of his wife's daughter.  
He asked Mileth for vellum and ink and wrote, sealing it with his own ring, which bore the insignia of his House, and Inthan assured him it would reach the palace.

'' I will ride with you, '' He said as he rejoined the Steward. '' I need some things from the city, for I cannot, truly, pass through Rohan without seeing Eomer King, it would be discourteous. '' He laughed a little. '' I only wanted to take Anwyn out for a ride, she was fretting in her rooms in the Citadel. ''

Faramir returned the grin. '' Eowyn is ever the same when she is there. But this could be something of a ... shock to Eomer, when my lady arrives with her daughter. ''

And that was to put the matter mildly. Eomer had had his reasons, and valid ones, at the time, to persuade his sister to give up the child, although, now that the one she had married accepted the revelation; it surely was not so important as it once had been.  
The unspoken question hung over them both like a cloud. Whom was the father? Faramir rejected utterly the thought that it could have been the traitor Grima, whom he knew Eowyn had mistrusted and loathed. He assumed it had been a Rohirrim warrior, whom perhaps did not know and never need know, he hoped so, for he was inclined to like Anwyn already, on her own account, as well as the fact she was Eowyn's child.

'' What will your father say? ''

Eldarion smiled, coming out of his thoughts, that he had deeply mistrusted her, even while seeing her had caused a frission within him which he, at first took to be antipathy.

''Naught, no doubt, I am merely leaving for Annuminas earlier than I usually do. Once we reach the palace there, we will have all we need; I just need some formal clothes, to attend Eomer, and weapons.''

At the Stewards lifted brows, he said. ''I should not think my father travels anywhere, even now, without Anduril, do you? And he did not live to claim this throne through trust alone. Better to be prepared. ''

The night passed peacefully. His room was next to Anwyn's and he knew Elgalad was guarding her. The dawn came, still and warm as the Prince dressed and bound back his damp hair. The scent of new baked bread and roasting meats wafted up from the kitchens and there was already a bustle in the courtyard.

His letter to the palace had brought four guards out, sent by the King, to accompany him, they were young men, save the leader Maenheneb, who was in his forties, an experienced and quiet soldier. They were escorting a small wagon, of clothes chests - it seemed unavoidable, Eldarion thought, as he went down to greet them, this attended upon his rank.

The guards broke their fast, as he returned to where Mileth had take Elgalad a platter, outside Anwyn's room, before she came out, and said the Lady was ready.

'' Now, young Lord, you must eat too, '' she scolded. '' The Lady slept well, it looks like, the Valar be thanked, but no-one sets out from my inn, on a long journey with naught in their bellies. '' As if her words conjured it, a serving maid came along the passage with a tray for the Prince.

''Mileth, you are a fussy little hen.'' Eldarion smiled and kissed her cheek, '' Thank you, I will eat, we wish to make an early departure. I will bring you something back from the North. '' he patted her back as he broke the fresh bread, split and spread with butter and honey.

'' What of your Lord? '' he asked Elgalad suddenly. '' Will he mind your coming? '' he realized he had just assumed Elgalad would and flushed.

'' No, hir , h-he has t-told me to. '' The Elf replied with a smile. '' he m-may follow and meet m-me further north. And I.. I would l-like to see the northlands again, m-myself. ''

''Have you been there? To Annuminas? ''

'' Not there, hir no, b-but I have traveled almost as f-far as the Grey H-Havens, from Imladris, I d-do know the land, and I was in L-Lindon, once, I rode there, following my Lord.''

He poured a tisane of mint and honey which Mileth had left and handed it to the Prince, whom recognized the Elf was not going to say more of that journey and accepted it.

'' It is so beautiful this time of year. '' he sipped the steaming brew. '' Elgalad? ''

'' Yes, hir ? ''

'' Do.. Elves... your Lord is Peredhil yes? '' The Prince looked for confirmation.

'' I... y-yes... in a way, '' Elgalad replied, with a faint blush.

'' Do...Peredhil or Elves find mortal women beautiful? ''

Elgalad looked bewildered and then spread a long fingered hand and nodded. '' Beauty is b-beauty, hir . It is s-said that in the Elder days, the b-brother of Finrod Felagund, Aegor, loved a mortal w-woman, and did not the Queen, your m-mother love your adar? ''  
The prince nodded. '' I wondered...I doubt I will marry an Elleth ... '' His own high cheeks coloured faintly. '' I mean... I will marry no-one yet but... ''

At the other's calm, unjudgemental silence, he said: '' Have you ever ... wanted some-one? ''

The Sinda nodded. '' More than one p-person, and still d-do, hir .. but I have n-never...been intimate with any-one. ''

'' Is that not unusual for your people? my father says that the Elves are more wild, more... earthy, more... passionate than people think. ''

'' Yes...it is, b-but some Elves d-do not find their t-twin soul and remain alone, although some d-do take other lovers for c-comfort.'' Elgalad murmured. '' It is t-true what your sire says, Prince , there is n-no shame, nor embarrassment in what we d-do, or whom we love or d-desire, unless that person belongs t-to some-one else, we always know t-that, in our hearts, we c-can see it. And few Elves ever attempt to p-press their attentions where it is.... unwanted. ''

''As Eadbearn did to Anwyn. '' The flint coloured eyes flashed. '' I wonder if he rides back to Rohan, I would like to meet him face to face. '' he spoke through his teeth.

'' Be careful, hir , there is something wrong in h-him, I felt it, something twisted and d-dark, a dark flower in his m-mind, as my Lord w-would say. Such p-people care naught what they d-do, I have seen such b-before. '' he thought of the man his Lord had killed, near Esgaroth years before.

'' Then he needs to be dealt with sooner rather than later. '' Eldarion said firmly, as he finished the warm tisane. '' Come. Let us take the Lady Anwyn down and begin our journey. ''

Despite all, he was anticipating this with pleasure. He enjoyed being with Faramir and Eowyn, and Anwyn's presence.... his question to Elgalad had been born from the fact that he was young and had never wanted any woman, least of all the nobles whom were ever about him in the Citadel. He was a little confused, a little thrilled, excited; rather like a young Rohirrim stallion in the spring. And he loved the North. He never considered his own rule, after, he hoped, a very long time, but if he had, he would have known that it would be one based in the north, with its mist of mountains, it's silver birches and mountain ash, its fern and heather and clear, foaming streams.

As he knocked and gently pushed open the door, Elgalad heard a wry, amused comment in his mind.

This could be extremely interesting His Lord said.


	29. Night Games

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Spiced Wine.

A few miles away, not far from the outwall of the Rammas Echor, a lone rider waited, chewing a bitter root, which juices he occassionally spat out, as he glowered impatiently at the horizon. When the man he was waiting for finally arrived, Pephennas snarled at him: ''You took your cursed time!''

''Well, I had to be sure,'' the nondescript brown haired man replied, undisturbed. ''Interesting developments however. A Rohirrim warrior rode in and Enid met with him. It would appear this Anywn is probably fleeing from his unwanted attentions. Armelle did her a favor perhaps. Terrible, the things that go on, in families.'' He grinned, and related all Enid had said to him.

'' Where is that idiot getting his information? '' hissed Pephennas, bringing his fist down on the pommel. The other man shrugged.

''Who knows, but it is not so unusual is it?''

'' And the pretty prince is taking her under his wing. '' The soldier sneered, showing his big, yellow teeth. ''Go to the city, to my house, bring four of my own men, I sent the damned guards back.''

''Couldn't buy them, eh?''

''Shut up, and go,'' Pephennas snarled. ''Meet me here by sundown.''  
It had been pointless to even try and bribe the guards of the Tower, there were few men who were truly incorruptible, but the soldiers loved their king, and their prince. .

 

***

 

'' Do not fear that anything will happen to you here'' Eldarion reassured, and then paused to listen to the sound of a hard, angry, raised voice which floated up from somewhere below.

''That is the m-man,'' Elgalad said, hearing two more refined and gentler voices contest with it.

Eldarion's eyes flashed and he moved toward the door, but Elgalad put up a hand.  
"I will guard the room.'' He slipped out, closing the door behind him. Eldarion, hearing the argument come to an end, went to the balcony, seeing Faramir and Eowyn, walking across the garden, straight backed and regal.

'' I was thinking,'' he said, turning back. ''They ride on, to Annuminas, father invites them most springs, but they generally depart a week or so before us, since your... '' He paused and smiled. ''Your mother likes to spend time in Rohan. Perhaps after all that has happened, you do not wish to, but rather than go back to the city, we could join them.”

 

***

''My dear, if you paid more than fifty gold marks for this, you were robbed.''

Noriniel, the highest paid courtesan of Minas Tirith, looked over her shoulder, hair the colour of horse chestnuts spilling over her fair skin, then turned in the bed, handing a winecup to her customer.

'' I paid one hundred and fifty. '' Her delicate brows rose. '' I saw it as an investment. '' Her pearly teeth gleamed. "I could sell it for ten times that, lord, do you know how rare these are? "

''Any copy which is accurate in these days is rarer than a hens tooth,'' the man agreed, examining the paper, ink and the colours used in the illustrations. ''About two hundred years old, made in Umbar, and a lot of it is inaccurate. '' He laid the book aside. ''I really should write it again.''

A gurgle of laughter came from Noriniel. ''Ah, you wrote it, Lord? '' Her fingers traced down the taut, defined muscles of his stomach.

'' A long time ago, in a city in the Harad. ''

'' Truly? '' She learned not to argue with her customers, many of whom must be humored, but this one was oh so very different. ''There are things in there very few know, or admit to knowing. I thank you then, for it has kept me ahead of my rivals for ten years.''

''They are simple facts, my dear, which I discovered by... experimentation.''

It had been years since Noriniel had been forced to endure ill-treatment, but neither did real pleasure come often. Her natural wit, charm and beauty had swiftly placed her above the purses of any but the very wealthy, and the book had indeed helped her to satisfy the various hungers of the more sophisticated. But desire -- that was something she had not experienced in many years, one became accustomed, to pain, to shame, to indignity - and more swiftly than those, to feeling nothing but a certain boredom. She had not known what to expect with this one, but she had been intrigued, for he was undoubtedly of the blood of the Elves, and she had wondered if they were any different to Men. To be able to smile subtly at the breathless question as to whether she had truly entertained one was worth more than the money he had paid; it would give her immense face and boost her reputation further. At thirty (although her Numenorean blood was strong, and she looked much younger) there were too many young beauties climbing the ladder behind her for Noriniel to rest easy.

He had been undemanding, but she felt the fire there, and it seemed almost as if he withheld it so as not to hurt her. Her eyes searched his face, which she found startling. A woman would give her eye-teeth for skin as white and unblemished, drawn taut over high and elegant bones, and any man would well-nigh kill for his body, which was a study in perfection. The swirling tattoos leant a barbarity to him, and the blazing amethyst eyes were so un-natural that they leant a further mystery.

'' I have collected many of the instruments used in the book. '' She rose and drew a leather case from under the bed. ''Would you like to experiment further?''

Vanimórë laughed lazily as he ran his eyes over the pleasure instruments, the stoppered essences which were supposed to encourage flagging desire.  
''Half of these do not work, the other half only if you know what you are doing. But I do not think we need them.''

Later, breathless, drenched in a fine mist of perspiration, the courtesan sank back upon the soft pillows.

'' I think you truly did write that book. ''

'' Oh, I did. '' He grinned. ''But it is surprising how much practice is actually required to get the desired effect. ''

He drank wine, allowing her to rest and heard a bell in the city chime midnight.

'' Are all Elves like you? '' Noriniel murmured.

'' I am Peredhil, '' he said. '' But if you are asking about us in bed, my dear -- Elves live long, they learn many arts, they are hardly the ethereal creatures many think. Go to sleep. Leave when you awaken. ''

He walked through to the bathing room and washed, then drew on his clothes, braiding back his hair. The woman slept, face peaceful.

Elgalad?

Yes?

You will be followed when you leave. I will be observing. Eabearn met up with Pephennas, and Enid is with them.

I will be alert, Elgalad promised.

A mental nod was the reply, as Vanimórë walked on, melting from his tall form into one shorter, brown haired, plain, a person worthy of little notice. Down the moonlit swirl of the Anduin, a body rolled toward the sea, the body of a murderer and mercenary, by name of Genthin, whom had long served with Pephennas, his very ordinariness making him useful -- to the soldier and now to Vanimórë...


	30. Betrayl

Anwyn was awake well before dawn, though once she had risen and dressed she felt oddly at a loss.

There were no chores to be done, no horses to be turned out to pasture, no hounds baying to be fed. 

Once the sounds of a stirring household could be heard Anwyn left her room and headed to the kitchens, offering to help but she was steered away with a smile and a large slice of warm bread by Mileth whose rosey cheeks were generously powdered by flour.

The warm rich scent of horses welcomed her as she walked into the stables anddown the line of stalls before slipping silently into the last one where a large dark stallion stood. After offering Bellant the last of the uneaten bread from her hand she fondly stroked the horses thick neck grateful for the great beasts wordless acceptance of her presence. 

Anwyn stiffened when she heard voices on the other side of the wooden wall, then relaxed as they passed. For the moment she did not wish to be found, she had been carefully avoiding the Lady Eowyn. It would take her time to ease into the new knowledge, and she craved the freedom to find her own way to understanding. 

Right now she did not wish further explanation of why she had been sent away. It was in the past, nothing could be done to change that. Though she could easily forgive the Lady, even if it had had not been purposely done Anwyns pride remained deeply wounded. It would take some time to heal. Anwyn loathed the feeling of being watched and studied, as she knew Eowyn did when she believed she wasn't looking. There was no need for a bond to grow between them, not now at least, Anwyn was still too hurt at this time to consider allowing any kind closeness to grow. Yet she could continue to give the respect that the Lady Eowyn rightly deserved.

Picking up a stiff brush she ran it against the horses already glistening coat, there was a simple peace in such a simple task. Guard for the moment lowered Anwyn had not noticed the tall man who had slipped into the stall behind her.

Two large hands fell on either side of her own and drew the saddle further forward towards the horses withers. Giving a start of surprise Anwyn whirled around look into the face of one of the guards that had been sent from the Citadel to accompany them at the request of the Prince, she had glimpsed at them only in passing.

'What are you doing?' Anwyn demanded, her tone razor sharp causing the Gondorian Guard to take a quicky step back.

“Forgive me, I was passing by and thought you require help” The soldier spoke softly though his accent carried the deep rich tone that Anwyn had begun to associate those raised of Gondor, to her ears it was softer and gentler than the loud booming voices of her father and brothers.

“I have been able to saddle my own horse since I was a child, I thank you” Anwyn replied dismissively, slipping the bridle from a brass hook.

Every noble born lady Irolas had ever known had always graciously accepted his help and certainly did not ready there own mounts. Irolas knew little beyond that he was summoned to ride under Maenheneb to accompany the prince and several others into the Northlands, Irolas had quickly accepted for not only was it a great honor but he knew the lands well and in the spring and early summer they were particularly beautiful. Though the youngest of the guards that had come at twenty four years he was confident in himself and his ability.

Irolas watched, intrigued, as this woman worked, adjusting the bridle and from her appearance for he did not also need to be told that she was of Rohan. It was somewhat intriguing for he had met many of Rohans sons but never set his eyes upon any of its daughters and here was one as fair as the ladies of Gondor were dark A rather handsome woman he thought to himself as leaned a shoulder against the wood of the stalls entrance

“Do you require anything further?” Asked the woman who he had not realized he was openly staring at, one hand rested lightly upon her hip while the other held the reins of her now readied mount

“No” Irolas hastily straightened and strode away trying to appear purposeful in his step as he desperately fought to remember why he had come to the stables in the first place.

The party departed from Inn though before leaving Anwyn had made point to promise Inothan and Mileth that she would return again, should the winds were ever to bring her to this land once again. 

As their journey commenced Anwyn purposely distanced herself from Prince Faramir and her mother, who did not seem to notice as they rode abreast absorbed in conversation

Anwyn did notice, with no small amount of irritation, how the impertinent young guard who had earlier offered his help, as unneeded as it was, was drawing nearer and nearer to her until at last reined in his mount she glanced over, undecided whether she desired to send him away again or if she might enjoy his company for a time, he had a kind young face and was not unpleasant to look upon. 

“What is your name?” Anwyn asked after a moment of silence. It was not often she had spoken to men outside of her own family, and she strove to keep her tone light and gentle.

“Irolas, Lady” He bowed his head slightly

“I am Anwyn”

“Well met, Lady Anwyn”

“It is only Anwyn” Came the gentle correction

“As you wish” Irolas replied with a smile.

For a time they rode in silence. The air here was fresh and it reminded Irolas very much of the farm that he had grown that had been nestled far back into the mountains; he had come to the city many years ago when he felt ready to leave his home and offer his services as a Soldier to the King.

“I grew up in these lands” he remarked glancing over the Northern woman who smiled, nodding politely but kept her gaze forward. For a time Irolas spoke at length of the many plants he had knowledge of, spotting them at the edge of the path and then reciting all that his mother had taught him.

Anwyn for her part was silently beginning to wish that she had not opened the door to conversation as she now found herself missing the silence. 

Later that evening, as the party gradually beginning to retire it was decided among the guards that Irolas would take the first watch.

Irolas felt fairly certain the greatest difficulty he would face would be to remain awake. So it was that he took up his watch towards the thick line of trees that lead into the surronding forest, It also gave him a good vantage of the entire camp.

The moon was full in the sky cast its silvery light across the wide clearing, Irolas slowly lowered himself to the ground. It was so quiet there was no reason he shouldn't make himself comfortable.

There was still quite some time until he would be relieved of his watch, there was a shimmer of movement at the edge of the camp, so quickly gone that Irolas wondered if his eyes were deceived. Drawing the sword from the sheath that had rested across his lap, he slowly rose to his feet

'Who is there?' Irolas called into the darkness of the surrounding wood 'Show yourself'

"Oh great Bema" Came the whispered curse from the darkness nearby as Anwyn reluctantly stepped out into view, robed in a dark cloak and her breath came in short white puffs the cool night air. 

“Please, do not follow me” She began raising a hand as though to ward him away.

“Where do you go at this hour?” Irolas glanced towards the tents where the soldiers slept, he did not need any to know that the woman had managed to escape his sight and make it all the way into the woods nearly without his notice.

Anwyn pulled the cloak closer around her shoulders as she glanced away, coloring faintly “I need to…make water. And I do not require an escort to do so” She was also very quick to add.

This would receive no argument from Irolas who merely nodded wordlessly and watched as Anwyn moved further into the woods until she was completely gone from his sight. This did not please Irolas but he would hardly deny a lady her privacy, and ss he turned his back to the woods.

Some time had passed and Irolas began to grow uneasy, the woman had been gone much too long. Another glance at the dying embers of fire where the others soldiers still lay upon the ground sleeping, he made the choice not to rouse them. If he could not guard a single woman, he was hardly worthy of being counted amongst the royal guard.

Walking into the woods he listened, it was so still. It did remind him of his home, he welcomed it though wished the canopy above were not so thick that it blocked out the moonlight. After a time his eyes adjusted to the dark but he could still little more than shifting shadows, he thought to call out to the Lady, perhaps she had wandered too far and become lost herself.

In the depth of the still night, a creature screamed, a high, shrill sound. The hairs on the back of his neck lifted. It was foolish to have come alone, but Irolas was filled to the brim with the bravery born of youth and the reassuring weight of his blade in his hand and so he pushed further. Instinctively he dropped lower, moving towards cover until he could learn the source of the sounds. Cursing now his earlier decision to come alone, he had allowed pride to color his judgmenet. Clouds drifted across the moon casting the wood into full darkness at times. After a time he came to a clearing, and by the light of the moon he saw a dying fire, embers still glowing red with white tendrils of smokes rising skywards.

It had been recently allowed to burn itself out, though he saw not a single traveler but a lone horse that stood with its head lowered and front legs hobbled together. Irolas frowned at the pitiful sight, he could not understand what would cause anyone to leave in such a hurry that they would leave behind their mount, to the sport of wolves no less as it stood unable to move or defend itself.

Irolas sensed the rustle of bush beside him caught the brief flash of gold and sprang forward and grabbed Anwyn before she could fully run into the clearing and dragged her down into the soft earth, clamping a hand over her mouth. 

'Halt' he hissed into her ear even as she struggled against his grasp. When at last he felt the body pulled tightly against his grow rigid, but still he let go. Anwyn turned to him 'The horse-I heard it screaming' was all she managed to choke out. The Rohirrim's bond with their mounts was legendary, their love of horses stronger than most would ever understand. Irolas could only imagine how this would grieve the woman so. Though his duty remained to protect her remained his greatest concern, though he knew he could not allow the creature to suffer.

'I know' Irolas said grimly 'Stay here, I will go it'

The horse shied away at his approach, its silvery coat sleek and damp; a long open gash across its lean flank was was smeared with blood. The creature snorted, terrified, throwing up its head in alarm but unable to move as its front hooves were tied, though still it tried and nearly fell, it let loose another shrill whiny.

Irolas studied the knot of the rope that held the horse tethered, he drew his sword from the scabbard looking for space where he might cut the rope without further injuring the terrified animal. 

A movement to his left caught his attention as Anwyn leapt forward from the bush and into the glade. Cursing under his breath Irolas spun around. The horse screamed again in fright, throwing back its head and again nearly toppling over.

Anwyn slowed as she moved the terrified animal, she held her hands spread out in front of her whispering words that Irolas did not understand and slowly the horse began to quiet, lowering its head and the woman moved forward, placing her hands on either side of the horses face and touching her brow to that of the horse, standing quietly for a long moment before turning to him with an expression of sheer anguish “Give me a knife. I must cut her free!”

“No. We must go. Now Anwyn!” Irolas shouted as a cold dread spread through him.

“No!” Came the shouted response “This is my horse! I do not understand how she got here and I shall not leave her! Help me! Ah, curse you!”

Anwyn dropped to her knees and began to work at the tightly worked knots with trembling fingers.

Irolas could only look on as he had heard of the strong bonds forced between the men of Rohan and their horses. Something unspoken was passing between them as the horse, now quieted was lowering its head to nuzzle the woman’s back as if offering some reassurance before the mare raised its head and snorted uneasily and ears perked forward as a sound broke the stillness of the night.

Irolas spun on his heel, several horses were now moving among the trees.

“Anwyn!”

Irolas drew nearer to the woman to protect her though he quickly saw that they were outnumbered, and now the silver light of the moon shone off of naked steel.

Irolas heard Anwyn murmur something under her breath, either a curse or a prayer he did not know. The mounted rides reined their horses in, the night was cold and steam rose from their coats. Irolas immediately recognized at once who lead them.

“Pephennas?” Confusion swept over Irolas as he took a step forward towards one of the Queens most favored and personally chosen guards before turning to each of the men who followed him in turn “What is happening?”

The older guard ignored his question and his eyes were shifted towards Anwyn and sneered “Ah, you again”

Anwyns eyes glistened like polished steel in the darkness and the posture of defiance her body took was utterly unmistakable

“Take the girl”

Irolas moved. In one single movement he reached out, grabbing the back of the woman’s dress and drawing him against his chest while drawing his own sword so that it rested inches from her throat, not near enough to harm her but enough so that it may appear he would if he must, and his expression turning to a sneer. “And for her what shall I receive?”

Irolas felt Anwyn give a start of surprise against him, though he needed that of her, it had to appear as though he were prepared to make good on his threat.

Pephennas laughter rang out “Irolas, Young fool. What is this?”

“I demand payment” Irolas said again pulling Anwyn more tightly against him, his sword held high before them and taking a step backwards. 

“To return without the lady shall mean my own head” It was a ploy to give himself more time, surely by now the next guard will have found him missing and come looking. The woman's absence would not likely be noticed, yet. 

Pephennas sneered “Foolish boy. Do you think I have any care of what becomes of you?” He turned to address those on the horses behind him 'Kill him. Take the girl'

“My belt” Irolas breathed into to Anwyns ear, holding her near until he felt a hand brush his stomach to where a second knife hung from a sheath on from his belt.

One of the men lunged forward, far too eager, and he did not see the flash of the dagger until it slashed across his outstretched palm and he fell backwards with a howl of pain, hardly fatal but he had certainly felt its bite.

Irolas then sprung forward with his own sword, placing himself in front of Anwyn and striking down another man who charged towards them.

Anwyn, Run!” Irolas shouted over his shoulder, as another man came forward with a drawn sword and a wild gleam to his eyes that was half covered by the long blonde hair that fell across his face, the swords met and grated against each other before both warriors spun away, Irolas had felt the sheer strength behind every stroke traveling up to his shoulder.

From the corner of his eye Irolas glimpsed a man lifting a large wicked looking weapon, a massive bow he realized, it looked as primitive as the man who carried it.

_Surely he cannot aim it_ Irolas thought as he desperately pressed on, and the large man released the string but the arrow flew harmlessly off into the wood behind him

Realization thudded through Irolas as he saw that the man had been aiming at Anwyn’s retreating form as she ran towards the cover of the woods, stumbling but quickly raising to her feet and shedding the cloak that had tripped her and caused her to fall in the process and the wickedly carved tip of the next arrow was aimed squarely at her back.

Irolas let out a shout of warning and disengaged himself and ran, he reached for Anwyn throwing his body on top of hers and they fell heavily together. His breath was knocked from his body and he felt he had been struck heavily from behind.

The solider landed heavily on top of the woman. For the briefest moment all he knew was the rich scent of earth and the soft brush of her hair against his face.

It was so difficult to draw breath, and a burning agony filled his chest, he could no longer feel his legs. Irolas was vaguely aware of the arms wrapped tightly around him, as though holding him to life.

Irolas saw Anwyns face, filthy and streaked with tears. Her lips were moving, forming words that he could not hear. She held him, he knew for he had landed atop her and he thought fleetingly that if he were to pass from this world that there would be worse ways than in the arms of a woman.

Rough hands seized him from behind and dragged him away, and sound began to return to him slowly and he heard Anwyn screaming, felt himself lifted from the ground and thrown down again.

Though with great effort he forced himself to turn his head, and he caught sight of Anwyn, pale and trembling, her eyes met his briefly before the man with the long dirty blonde hair pulled her roughly away.

Pephennas strode forward towards Anwyn, reaching out and tracing a long dirty finger tracing a line across Anwyns cheek and then down her slender throat “Tell me, where does the pretty Prince sleep tonight?”

Anwyn lifted her chin and spit in Pephennas face, glaring defiantly, her lips drawn back in a snarl over teeth stained pink by blood from a split lip. Pephennas calmly raised a hand, wiped his face and then turning slightly with the speed of a striking serphant Pephennas drew back his arm and savagely backhanded Anwyn who sagged boneless back against the man who held her and her grey eyes momentarily unfocused.

“Now Lady, as you so clearly enjoyed my humiliation I will so enjoy yours. We ride ahead for the camp” 

With a shove forward Anwyn was released from the iron grasp and fell face long into the dirt. 

“Do as you wish, and when you are finished come find us ” His gaze flicked to Anwyn once more “And bring the little wench as well”

Pephennas mounted a horse that waited nearby digging his heels cruelly into his mounts side, pushing the poor creature into a hard gallop and his men turned and followed.

Dazed Anwyn pushed herself up on her hands and knees, began to crawl towards where Irolas had fallen but strong hands dug their way into her hair and pulled her up to her feet again and she could not hold back a pained cry. Tears of pain blurred her vision as she fought against the hands and turned and for a moment she did not believe what she saw 'B..Brother?' Anwyn choked on the word, disbelief an icy spear passed straight through her heart 'How...why' 

Merely grunting in response, Eadbearn began to walk, dragging Anwyn along with him. Whitelocks behind them threw her head up and let loose a high pitched squeal.

'Brother...Why' Anwyn said again, her voice growing stronger, louder. 

'WHY' The word became a scream, torn harshly from bloodied lips. Cold fury drove her fists against him, hitting and kicking as hard as she could but Eadbearn walked forward as though he did not feel the blows.

'BROTHER ANSWER ME ' Anwyn cried and Eadbearn rounded on her suddenly, throwing her forcefully back against a tree, she felt the roughness of the bark dig into her skin through her gown. 

'I am not your Brother' Came the icy response and Anwyn blinked back tears as she suddenly did not truly know the man that stood before her, his eyes were cold and his breath hot and bitter against her face. This was not her eldest brother who had she loved so dearly.

'Your whore mother is not here to protect you now, is she?' Eadbearn sneered 'Did you think you could hide the truth from me? You have dishonored my family. We are now mocked, I come to find you and here I find you, the treasured guest of the King! Does he know who you truly are? The ill begotten pup of a lying whore. I should drag you back with me if only for everyone to know what you truly are'

'Please, I did not know' Anwyn sobbed 'I was only a child...How could I have known?!?! Please, It need not be this way. I will return with you to Rohan if that is what you want. I will say whatever you wish me to say. I will do whatever you want, but please, I beg you, do not let them hurt my the others' 

'You would give your own life for one who never wanted you. You are a fool. I wish my father had left you to the cold that night'

'You are a coward and a traitor. Kill me then, if that is what you have come to do. I shall beg for the lives of those whom I love, but not for my own life.' As she spoke Anwyn raised her head exposing her neck and held her hands out her side, as though to invite a killing blow 'I shall die with honor and my spirit shall join our honored ancestors....and for this, I shall never see you again'

'I did come with desire to end your wretched life' Eadbearn started slowly, his mouth working it's way into a terrifying sneer 'Then I had the good fortune to meet Pephennas and what he is about to do to those who travel with you....Death would be kinder'

Pephennas sheathed his sword 'I shall return to Rohan, I shall tell my Father that you were murdered, and know if you ever return to Rohan while I draw breath, I swear I shall make it come to pass. Run along now, see what has become of those who you travel with, listen to them scream for mercy'

Cold dread threatened to stop Anwyn where she stood but there was no time to give into it now , she had to go as fast as she could to warn the others, she prayed that perhaps Pephennas did not know where the camp was. Though they had lured her out, they must know the camp was within a distance that could be easily taken by foot. 

Anwyn ran as fast as her feet could carry her, she was on foot and could not hope to compete with the swiftness given by a horse. The trees rushed past her in a dizzying blur, her head ached and her vision to momentarily blur, she stumped but did not fall. By sheer luck alone she found herself once more in the clearing when Whitelocks stood, it sickened her to think that her brother had brought her own horse that was sweetened by far too many summers for such a long difficult journey. 

Flinging herself down before the horse with shaking fingers she worked away at the knot until it at last fell away. 

Anwyn wove her fingers into the horses mane and leapt lightly up onto her back, from this height she could see the now still form of Irolas, he had given his life for her and now could no longer fulfill his duty to protect the Prince, she must now take up his task. Though it only further added to her grief, there was not the time for mourn for his sacrifice now, not when there still might be time to give warning. Pressing her heels into the horses side the pale mare leapt forward into a gallop as Anwyn guided her towards the trees from which she had come


	31. Held by Bonds of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Anwyn

Under the thick canopy of trees went horse and rider, a pale glint of silver through the darkness.

Without the hindrance of saddle or bridle Anwyn rode with her body pressed flat against the back of the horse and outstretched fingers woven tightly into the mare’s long mane.  
Anwyn pushed the Whitelocks into a hard gallop; she rode without care of herself, only that she might reach the camp and give them warning. 

The scent of smoke reached her long before Anwyn looked up and saw it rising skywards in thick white columns from the wagons and tents that were fully consumed by flames. Filled with cold dread Anwyn pushed her horse forward though she did not know what she would be met with once she reached the clearing.

Whitelocks shied away from the flames and reared up refusing to go further, but Anwyn instinctively held fast even as she fought to see through the thick smoke for any sight of Eldarion, Lord Faramir or her Mother. 

The smoke shifted and Anwyn’s eyes fell upon the bodies sprawled bodies of the Gondarian Guards, the bloodied bedrolls that lay strewn around them told tale enough that they had been ambushed in their sleep, the cowards had not even allowed them chance to defend themselves.

Forcing her gaze away, Anwyn blinked away the tears the smoke brought to her eyes fighting to see clearly. With every breath she felt the heat growing in her chest, growing heavier with fear at what else she may still find. Yet in her mind she felt no fear for herself, part of her had already been slain, she did not care what became of her now, her only desire was to aid those whom she had travelled with.

Through the rolling smoke Anwyn saw a tall figure standing outlined by the flames of a burning wagon. As the smoke cleared she saw there were others crouched down before him, she was just able to glimpse the pale gold spill of Eowyns hair and beside her Anwyn was certain she saw Lord Faramir.

Yet where was Eldarion? Elgalad? Had they managed somehow to escape? 

Whitelocks squealed and lashed out with strong hindlegs, Anwyn had been inattentive to the space behind her and had not seen the man who attempted to sneak up wielding a crude club. The horse’s strong rear hooves had missed the potential attackers head by little more than a breath.

Anwyn who very nearly unseated by the sudden movement kept her seat by years of skill alone even as the frightened mare leapt forward again and Anwyn desperately fought to bring her back under into her hand. There was no telling what had been done to the horse under her former brothers cruel hand, never had Anwyn known the sweet mare to be so frightened and wild.

‘What is this?’ There was a dark mirth in Pephennas’s tone; there was something terrifying in his face that threatened violence.

‘I did not expect you to return so soon, and alone’

Anwyn’s pale eyes met those of Eowyn, who looked pained to see her now, not relieved, perhaps she had believed that Anwyn had somehow managed to flee. The older womans lips moved silently forming a single word

_Run_

‘Come down from there, or do you mean for your horse to kick my head in?’ Pephennas called mockingly.

‘Come closer and we shall see’ Anwyn answered coldly. 

The thought had briefly crossed her mind to run the man down, but he stood far too close to her mother and Faramir, they would be trampled as well.

Pephennas laughed, it was a dry mirthless sound, like the rustling of dead leaves. One of his guards emerged from the darkness pulling Eldarion with him, The Prince’s face was bright with fury and apart from a bleeding cut upon his brow he seemed otherwise unharmed. 

When Eldarion likewise caught sight of her in turn he lunged forward pulling against his captors bonds ‘ANWYN! RUN!’ 

With practiced swiftness Pephennas withdrew his sword from its scabbard and pressed the tip of the blade against the back of Eowyn’s neck.

Eowyn did not flinch but Faramir looked over at his wife, his expression that of naked fear.

‘Run and I kill her’ Pephennas said simply ‘Your brother has told me everything. I know who she is to you. To kill her would mean nothing to me’ 

Wordlessly Anwyn released Whitelock’s long mane, savoring the last moments of its smoothness as she allowed it to slide through her fingers and against her skin, breathing deeply of the familiar scent of the horse and with ease swung leg over and leapt gracefully down from the horses back but before another move could made she whirled and struck the horses flank with her open hand causing the horse to gallop wildly off towards the woods.

They would not, Anwyn had then decided, take both of them.

Anwyn stood silently as one of Pephennas’s men moved forward and pulled her hands behind her back and binding them with rope before pushing her forward and forcing her to kneel down beside her Mother.   
Only then did Pephennas withdraw his sword sliding it back into its sheath.

‘Anwyn…Your face’ Eowyn murmured brokenly glancing sidelong at her daughter whose own expression betrayed very little, a large bruise was beginning to blossom across her cheek where Pephennas had struck her.

‘You will have time to tell her how you earned that, Whore’ Pephennas laughed cruelly causing Eldarion to lunge towards him and this time Pephennas reached out, caught the Prince and dragged him closer. 

‘Careful Pretty Prince. Do not think to test my patience any further as that is just a small taste or what I can and _will_ do if you do not obey me’


	32. A Long Voyage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter written by Spiced Wine

Soundless as a brush of mist, Elgalad crept through the trees, which here, were more widely spaced. He took to them at last, gauging the distances between them and using the springing boughs to aid him from one to another, until the sound of distant voices made him pause and re-orient his direction.

His last jump brought him onto the very tree above where Pephennas and his men circled their prisoners, and none heard him , or looked up. Equally as noiseless, he slipped further down the trunk until he came to a wide bough scarce two ells above their heads, the dimness before the dawn gave him a moment's pause to pick out faces even as he reached over and nocked a bow.

Eldarion, Anwyn, the Steward, and his Lady...the others were enemies

Elgalad would kill in battle, or self defense, but never with any pleasure - this however, was to aid people he had come, in a short time, to respect and care for. He considered things he had been taught by his Lord, Pephennas was the leader here, and by his words, clearly wanted at least Eldarion and Anwyn alive, his men, however, might panic and kill and run , if Elgalad put an arrow through him. He sighted and loosed.

There was a hiss , and thump and the long shaft, passing, at that angle down through the shoulder and exiting at the heart, took one of the men instantly to his death, and he fell with only a brief look of surprise.

Elgalad The Prince thought even as he was jerked back against Pephennas and a knife touched his throat.

''One more arrow and he dies and we wash out hands of our losses. '' Snarled the man. '' Drop your bow and come down, Elf. ''

_Do as he says_ Vanimórë's voice, after long silence, froze the Sinda's hands.

_But Hir!_

_I told thee to trust me, now come down, he may not kill the Prince or the others, but he knows enough about pain to make them scream, and I really do not wish to leave a small crater in Gondor. Let me do this as I usually handle things, hen come down._

There was a brief moment, before the yew-bow dropped from the branches, followed by the quiver, and then Elgalad landed on the sward under the trees.

'' Take his swords, and bind him. What are you waiting for, he is but an Elf and I wager he bleeds. '' Snapped Pephennas. '' Genthin! Tie him. ''

Elgalad found his arms drawn back behind him as the nondescript, brown haired man tied his wrists, expertly, standing at his back as the soldier siezed his face and lifted it in the strengthening light. The look in his eyes was one Elgalad had seen before, and he stared back, eyes huge and cold, until the fingers tightened cruelly and then dropped.

'' Three here who could make me very rich. '' He said,. '' but remember, all of you, there are ways to hurt without leaving a mark, you are all hostages for the others. Do you understand? ''

'' You can never hope to sail us to the Harad and sell us as slaves! '' Eldarion spoke with contempt and increduality, which brought a cynical laugh from the man he truly loathed - and, he admitted, feared. '' And Anwyn is no whore! How dare you sully her with that name! ''

'' So innocent, Pretty Prince , coddled and spoiled all your short life, and knowing nothing save privelige. Are you not on your way to Annumimas, an impulsive journey with friends? By the time any-one discovers that you are not, you will be at sea. Do you know how vast the lands of the south are? You will be dropped in it like a stone and vanish. Shut behind walls and screens which will last while your youth and beauty last - and they say it might last a long time with your blood - . Just one more pleasure slave among thousands upon thousands. Guarded, watched, even if you escaped you would be caught, and if you were not, you would never be able to travel across the Sea of Fire. You will disappear. Whom would believe you the prince of Gondor and Arnor? And whom would care if you were? There are city rulers and desert chieftains who would not care if you were your own father, who will pay a fortune to add you and your friends to their seraglio's . ''

He dragged back Eldarions hair and whispered against his neck. '' And you will have plenty of time to learn how to please your masters. And if she is not a whore now, she soon will be. As will you and the Elf. ''

The Prince shivered, but forced himself to stare past the grey hair, at the sky, where stars were gleaming against the lightening rose-gold of the dawn. Ai, Valar... this is a dream... help us!

A cough interrupted Pephennas. '' Perhaps you should wait until you are in Harad, old friend, since at this moment in time, you know, you are still in Gondor. And I advise you to hurry, you may have time but it is not limitless. ''

The man drew back, nodding and his eyes fell to Faramir and Eowyn.

'' I would not advise leaving these two either. '' Genthin murmured. '' These woods are quiet, but people hunt here, and I have always found leaving bodies around does lead to some very awkward questions. Whatever is hidden, is always uncovered. ''

'' My men will bury the soldiers bodies well.....and I cannot sell the Steward. '' Grunted Pephennas. '' The wench , perhaps, time has been good to her and you know those lands better than I. You know what they like there. '' It was Genthin in fact - the true , now departed Genthin whom had approached the soldier several years ago, having known him since both were young men, and told him of the riches to be had in the slave trade in the Harad , where pale skins were valued above gems, and no questions were asked.

Pephennas had enough contacts in Gondor to be able to set himself up in some southern city and live the live of corrupt leisure he had always desired, while still keeping the flow of slaves coming. It was in fact - oddly enough - the rumors from the Dark Empire, as it was named, in the furthest south of the Harad, which had begun this interest and hunger for white skinned northerners. A fact which Vanimórë knew quite well.

He said; '' Take them with you. Time to decide on board ship . ''

A dark gleam came into Pephennas's eyes. This, he discovered, was pleasure, having power over those nobler than he, having them helpless. As Genthin had said, threats to those they loved, would work, with true nobility, they always did. And he anticipated yet more pleasure when the time was ripe.

He knew this land well; and they seemed simply a party travelling, keeping clear of the north - south road, and making a more circuitous route to loop back toward the river.

Each prisoner was bound and told that one move and they would watch while another was tortured. They waited for opportunity, but with hands bound behind their backs, and weaponless, and at the mercy of whatever their captors decided to do, they found none. Eldarion certainly, although anger grew, and fear, would not have risked any of those other four. He longed to see soldiers, or any travellers, but Pehennas knew this region too well, and kept from the travelled routes. They rode at night, seeing, in the distance, the moon touch the Tower of Ecthelion, before they came to the river and followed it down towards the Harlond under the cover of darkness.

This was now a busy place, with ships docking and leaving and unloading and taking on goods night and day. They heard the scud of timber against the docks, saw the taut, ghostly shape of sails against the sky, while from inns and warehouses light spilled out.

Eldarion had noted that if Pephennas did not precisely defer to the one called Genthin, he certainly listened to him; it was this man, anonymous, quiet, self-possesed, whom guarded them, in the main. He did not touch them, nor speak, his air of quiet confidence, tempering Pehennas's increasing mood swings between jubilation, and gloating triumph and venom.

The captives were kept apart, not permitted to speak, but Eldarion could reach the Elf's mind, he felt it although he was not old enough to have mastered mind-speech. Where was the Lord whom Elgalad had been with, was he not searching for him? he wondered, and had received a look back from the Sinda which comprised warning and patience, and nothing more.

The horses came to a halt before a ship which loomed against the wharf; a sleek merchantman, a light from the charthouse casting a glow in the night, and Genthin trod up the ramp, murmuing something in an alien tongue, which brought, after a while, a man up from below decks. Eldarion caught above the scent of the docks, an aroma of rich spices.

Sarduk, Merchant prince of Raj, inclined his head, and gestured for them to come on board. he had received a visitor four nights ago, and after Vanimórë left had wiped his brow and called for wine - this, as was said in his land, was being caught naked between two mailed fists.

The prisoners, herded below, were taken to Sarduk's own cabin, which was large, for shipboard, and luxurious as a jewelled box. It was only sense to keep them all together, Genthin said. Water and wine was brought and the women even permitted to make use of the small, separate bathing room. On long voyages, the water used would be seawater, of course, but whilst in dock, it was fresh, and after them, the men.

All were given fresh clothes, in the bright, rich colours of the south, before their hands were retied and they could sit, and drink wine.

Eldarion, whom had felt it the height of indignity to be watched while he - or any of them, -attended to basic bodily needs, was learning that there was many ways to degrade some-one and was sure, in his heart, that it was only beginning. The way that Pephennas looked at him, left a feeling that a slug had crawled across his skin.

He had been on ships and felt it as the merchantman took the outgoing river tide, and despair welled up in him. He was perhaps indeed used to privelige, but was not foolish and he did indeed believe that once lost in the heat and cities of the south, he would vanish, with the others, one speck of sand among a desert of grains.

The small, deeply glazed portholes were too thick to be broken and the cabin door sturdy and had been locked, as they were left alone. Most ship doors did tend to be solid, since they might need to be closed against mountainous seas. He waited a moment, knowing that Pephennas would return soon to gloat and touch and he swallowed and then crossed to Anwyn.

''Lady , Anwyn...'' he felt Elgalad near him and a hand on his shoulder. '' We will do something - I swear, there must be a way. '' But he was not ruthless enough, or cynical enough to call the bluff of those Pehpennas threatened. Looking in those cold eyes he felt that the man would indeed revel in causing pain to the others, in watever way, and while he feared that, he could not put them at risk. But their chances were slipping further away with each hour.

'' I know the south, a little '' Elgalad murmured. '' Sidh , my lord. ''

He seemed too calm, or perhaps that was simply his nature, but Eldarion shook his head.

'' This is madness! '' he flashed. '' He is insane. ''

'' Not insane, my prince, ambitious and corrupt. '' Faramir murmured. '' And it is true about the southlands, but by the One, do not despair, we muct think and wait for any opportunity! ''

'' I am not going to despair '' Eldarion said, fiercely. '' I want to kill that one! ''

As he spoke, the sound of a bolt drawing back came from the door and it opened. Pephennas grinned , as Genthin shut the door behind him, his crossbow hled in one hand.

'' Are we enjoying the trip, so far, nobles all? '' the man asked, with a yellowed grin.  
The Prince and Elgalad shifted , reflexively, across Anwyn and Eowyn, Faramir beside them, causing the grin to slide into a sneer.

The Steward's eyes were on that bow, though the brown haired rogue carried other weapons. Crossbows could be just as deadly as longbows of course, but they took longer to load, and he knew Elves disdained them for that reason. This one was obviously made to clear instructions, its polished stock well worn from much handling, fitting smoothly in the relaxed grip. He had heard of these small weapons used by assassins, which could easily be hidden in the fold of a cloak. The quarrels were about the length of a man's hand, and wickedly barbed, unable to be pulled from the flesh without ripping through it, and , at a short distance, might pass straight through the body , or sink so far in that only by cutting it open could one be removed. The man handled it as if he knew well how to use it, his face calm as a mill-pond. None of them wore armor; at this range a shot would be lethal.

Receiving no reply to his taunts, Pephennas stepped across the space to the prince.

''Still proud? And I have heard that Rophirrim women are worth breaking, like spirited colts. And the lords of the south demand obedience, I think I will have to break you both very well before I offer you for sale. ''

''You have fantastical dreams. '' Spat the prince .

''And you have all the ill founded hope of youth. And as for this one. '' A large hand came out and siezed Elgalad's fair hair. I see you are expecting that Elf you were with in the Citadel to find you? I have already paid for you! I spoke to him even before I left the city. No-one is coming. You are mine . ''

The Elf paled, his eyes widening, and Eldarion gasped, before a voice sounded in the Sinda's mind; _Do not worry hen . This is all part of the plan. I could not sell thee, even if I wished to. Remember, trust me._

''Leave him alone! '' Eldarion flashed.

''I will not hurt him much - too pretty, but they say bruises heal fast on an elf. '' The thick fingers cupped the column of the white neck.

''Well? Nothing to stammer now, bum-boy? '' His fingers prodded and poked as they lowered to the slender hips and groin and as the Sinda flinched back, the grip tightened, and he froze, with an expression of pain.

'' I wouldn't damage it too much, old friend, some of those rulers are too fat to perform and they like to be the submissive ones. '' Genthin said coldly.

There was a sheen of sweat on the mans brow as he drew back, and he wiped a hand across his mouth, his eyes flicked to Anwyn, the swell of her breasts under the soft velvet .

''Do they pay more for virgins? Is she one? Can you tell? ''

''Can you not?'' Genthin's voice was derisive. '' It is in the eyes. And all three are. Aye, you will earn more if they are, it depends on how much you want to make. They will sell anyway. But few will buy them if they are not a little tamed. Sarduk will give us plenty of time in Raj. ''

Pephennas licked his lips. '' A long voyage. '' he muttered, before he turned away. '' Bring me one of the girls we got in the docks, bring her to my cabin. '' He lunged , suddenly, like a man ravenous, his lips crushing Elgalad's and as Eldarion shoved against him, enraged, turned and jerked him forward, his tongue forcing its way into his mouth, so that the Prince gave a muffled cry and threw himself back into Faramir, leaving Anwyn exposed, and , a light of hunger in his eyes, Pehphennas grabbed her breasts and squeezed as he licked over the white skin of her chest.

''Pephennas, not now. Trust me. '' The ice cold words acted, seemingly like a douche of of snowmelt over the man who straightened, flushed beet red and flung himself from the cabin.

_Trust me_ Elgalad's eyes went to the brown-haired man and fixed there, a moment, puzzled, before he stooped to the prince and Anwyn. All of them were shuddering in disgust, Eldarion reached for a winecup and tipped it to Anwyn's mouth, making a space for Eowyn to come to her.

'' You are a warrior ! '' he whispered, intensely to Elgalad. '' How do we kill him? '' His hands smoothed Anwyn's back gently, before he relinquished his place to her mother.

'' I think.. ' Elgalad replied, looking at the closed door. '' he was lying about my Lord. '' he ended as he took wine himself and made Eldarion drink, to wash away the rancid taste of the man.


	33. The Prince of Dol Amroth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter written by Spiced Wine

The sails bellied as they took the swell of the open ocean and the Ethir Anduin with its eyots and shoals fell away behind them. The look-out atop the mast cast an experienced eye over the glimmering surface of the sea; in the west the sinking sun sent a golden pathway across the waters as if leading to Aman itself .

In his cabin, Pephennas snored in a stupor. Come the morning, he would certainly believe that he had rutted with a prostitute taken from the dockside and for this, Vanimórë had not even had to use power, only his ancient knowledge of certain drugs. It would be no hard task to keep the man drugged throughout the voyage.

Entering the cabin which reeked with sweat and wine, Vanimórë found the girl cowering beside the bunk. Her dress was half torn from her shoulder but the man had, apparently passed out before he could do anything;, many drugs caused wine to become much more potent to the imbiber. With a jerk of his head, he summoned her, took her trembling arm and drew her into his own cabin. He had insisted that he have his privacy, and Pephennas, having known '' Genthin '' for years, did not object.

'' No-one will touch thee, '' he said, '' Stay here. Art thou sea-sick? ''

The girl - she could not have been more than six and ten summers - shook her head, her people were fisherfolk and she did not suffer any ill effects from the motion of the ocean .

'' Thou wilt return to Gondor, in time. '' he murmured. '' I will lock the cabin after me. So not fear, I will not do anything to thee. There is meat and wine and water. '' he met her eyes, saw her nod, and then went out, locked the door and opened the door along the hall, where a disgruntled Sarduk was attempting to make himself comfortable.

Since this ship was his own and he carried rich passengers at times he had nothing to complain of, but what he was contemplating, over a bottle of Dorwinion, was the looming possibility of a very truncated life.

'' My lord. '' he rose unsteadily and bowed; wine spotted his rich robe , splashing down over his fingers. '' Ah , my lord , this is madness.''

The prisoners in his appropriated cabin would have heartily agreed. Drunkenness emboldened him, although he cringed before the now startling amethyst eyes.

''My lord - my ship carries the Prince of Gondor , the Steward of Gondor, his Princess and that Lady's daughter. '' he closed his eyes briefly and pinched the bridge of his nose. '' I am a friend to Gondor and it's King, and he will take my head off , declare war on my people... ''

'' Oh, do be quiet. '' Vanimórë poured himself some wine. '' No harm will come to them, I will ensure it. Pephennas is the one I want, and who he has contacts with in the Harad. And there are many, this web of slavery is spreading fast and has tendrils everywhere, Pephennas is just one more corrupt man among many. ''

Sarduk groped for words. '' But my Lord... you have slaves. '' He flinched.

'' There is an incredible weight of inertia in a culture, I cannot change that - perhaps ever - but it was I, inadvertently, who gave every damned slave merchant in the south the truly wonderful idea that northern slaves were more valuable than gold and that is what I wish to stamp down on. ''

He knew Pephennas's contact of course, or rather , Genthins , but while he was a Valar, he was not omnipotent, and had discovered life would be incredibly boring for him, if he used Power and not his own native intelligence and strengths .

Besides - Pephennas deserved something more than just to be tipped overboard as food for sharks; he had touched Elgalad, and the others too, were worth something far better than to be stained by his hands.

While he could simply have used Power to take them back to their lands, he did not . This trip would not harm them, and one day Eldarion would be the ruler of a vast Empire and would come to it by experiencing many things. Bonds and friendships would be forged here that might otherwise never come to pass. He would protect, as he said, from death, from torment, but not from life.

They put in at Umbar, although not the great main port, but one of the many smaller ones at the mouth of the huge Nen Umbar, before putting again to sea, and heading south.

Pephennas's men, seeing which way the wind blew, and knowing that Genthin was the one with the contacts in the south, left their leader to his drugged stupor's and rages, in which, it seemed only his old friend could calm him. The captives did not have freedom, but they were spared his presence. To Elgalad's questions, Vanimórë counseled only patience, as the voyage wore on, but four days out of Umbar the lookout halloed a sighting .

''What flag?'' Demanded the Captain.

'' Too far away, sir. It's been shadowing us since we left Umbar, I thought it a trader at first, but it is keeping the same distance every day. ''

''Sea-wolves?''

''The lines seem wrong, but it will not come close enough for me to see.'' The lookout shook his head.

Vanimórë, who knew quite well what the ship was, said nothing, and that night a squall altered their course and they hove to in the shelter of an islet, of which some dotted the sea south of Umbar. Then a sea mist came down, which may or may not have been natural, which lasted for days, and was finally driven away by a brisk north westerly and they put up all sail.

Merchantmen went heavy, usually, and this would have been no exception, save that Vanimórë had requested that Sarduk take nothing but his Dorwinion wine and provisions for the crew.

_Now, what is keeping you back, I wonder?_ Standing at the stern, Vanimórë sought out the fine, clean mind of the one on board he had felt before and half smiled.

Not too much caution, but a great deal of curiosity and some stern common sense. I was inattentive.

Delicately he probed through the mind , the thoughts running before him like a scroll.....a party of nobles, hunting hounds... a dying Gondorian soldier an arrow through him, who gasped a few words before he died. The hounds scouting, scenting, their tracker pointing... the party splitting up, leaving this one young man and a few others following, tracing the tracks left by horses to the Harlond.... questions and coin brought forth a weeping young girl who spoke of a friend being taken aboard a ship... she had watched, terrified, from behind a stack of spices, as a group arrived and among them, two women with the fair hair of the north... and the young noble wasted no more time, and boarded the ship that was moored down the quay.

It was perhaps fortunate that this was a private ship and not a warship, but nevertheless, it could outrun Sarduk's ,only caution was keeping it on the horizon. The one who had impulsively followed them was uncertain and what he had learned was beyond belief, the last breath of a dying man and the glimpse of two fair women being thrust up the ramp of a southern ship.

The sun grew hotter, endless cliffs of ocher red and beaches of silver white sand where nothing stirred, rolled by to the east, until the coast receded into Tulwang Bay and the Raj.

Vanimórë did not know this region well, save that all this western coast had been visited , back in the Second Age , by people of Numenor, and further south, the older maps still bore the legend ''Domionions of the Black Numenoreans ''.

Raj was a Sultanate, a rich land, backed by densely wooded hills, the port city of Bozisha Dar climbed upwards in white and gold onion-shaped domes, on the mouth of a river which had its source in those hills. A trade road fanned from it, north west into Southern Bellakar, south, west and north east to a city he had once known well, Sud Sicanna.

The voyage had taken on a dreamlike quality for the captives . It seemed so impossible, and so unearthly, that perhaps very shock numbed them . None had ever felt so helpless, save perhaps Eowyn, watching her beloved uncle, Theoden fall under the poison of Grima the traitor.

Had they been able to escape none could crew a ship. The only blessing was that after his initial visit to them, Pephennas did not reappear, and his place was taken by the quiet Genthin, whom watched while their food and drink was brought in.

It was almost a relief, looking out of the windows, to see that they were approaching land. Although Eldarion, and indeed Faramir came of what had once been a seafaring nation, bearing the appellation ''Sea Kings.'' the Prince was young and Faramir had been born into a Gondor where sea power had waned save in one Outland realm.

Litters were waiting on the quay, for Sarduk and his '' guests''. Pephennas, blinking, looking groggy and unkempt, stumbled out on to the waterfront, feeling too upset in his innards to do more than loll in the litter as the prisoners, in pale , hooded cloaks, were herded onto a covered ox-cart.

Sounds assailed them through the wood; an alien language, scents of pepper and saffron, incense and hot human bodies but they could see little. The oxen pull into their yokes and the streets rose, gradually the sounds died away the smells became permeated by exotic flower scents, there was the plash of fountains.

The cart stopped and the tailgate was let down. Eldarion climbed out, reaching up to help Anwyn and Eowyn and looked around.

A high white wall spiked with iron surrounded them, buildings stretched behind them and gardens to their left. He saw Sarduk hurry into a wide doorway, and servants in white robes hurried forward with bowls of rose scented water and wine.

Pephennas lurched after him, and Genthin, with his men, formed an escort into the great villa to a room where open pillared colonnades lead onto the gardens.

Eldarion and Faramir went to the portico. The walls were guarded, a parapet ran along them and was patrolled by guards in spike turbaned helms. His face grim the Steward turned back, as into the room came the ubiquitous slaves with platters of food and wine, Genthin, his hand-bow still nestled in his grasp, opened a door from whence issued a wisp of scented steam, showing a vast , sunken bath then, in silence, left.

The ship which had followed lay offshore, for a time and then later, on the mid-afternoon tide hoisted it's flags proudly. The blue and white sails billowed proudly over the merchant traffic as it nudged into shore, the White Swan cool and elegant in the hot, humid air.

Genthin went to find Sarduk.

''It appears we may have noble visitors, from the north, be ready'' he murmured. ''To greet the House of Dol Amroth. ''

The Merchant prince choked and wrung his hands.

Pephennas slugged back the heavy wine, trying to clear his head, and only succeeded in starting off a thundering headache. He hurled the goblet against the wall . No more cursed sea voyages, he vowed, as he lurched from the room.

''Where are the slaves? '' he growled to one of his men stationed outside the door.

'' Genthin says they are not to be disturbed, sir. '' the man said, eying the unwashed, drunken soldier coolly.

''To the Dark with Genthin, who leads here? '' The man did not reply, and followed him with a shrug.

Since the War of the Ring, when so many Haradhrim had been decisively destroyed the southland rulers sought a wary friendship on the outstretched hand of merchants heavily laden with the exotic goods the south had to offer. There would never be great camaraderie between the people of the Harad and the North, for they were too different, but at this time there was a truce and much trade.

The young Prince who had hired horses at the docks to ride up to the huge villa, knew this and such was his demeanor, acting as if he were exactly where he was supposed to be, that no-one questioned him. Sarduk was known to be involved in trade with Gondor and it was not beyond belief that he might have guests from there.

The guards at his gate however, were not about to let any in, until an order came from their Lord and they swung the gates back.

The ward was quiet, but for the clop of hooves, as the Prince and his companions dismounted and then Elphir, son of Imrahil of Dol Amroth turned as a tall figure emerged from the villa and strode across to him.

He had not seen him before. All in black leather which left arms taut with muscle bare and decorated by swirling sharp edged tattoos. The mane of hair shone like a starling's wing and was pulled up high in a plume which fell to the backs of his knees; a harness carried two swords and a thigh sheath a dagger. His face was Elven, haunting, high boned with faintly up tilted eyes of a luminous purple.

The * Elf * inclined his head. '' Welcome to the home of my friend, Sarduk, Prince Elphir. Thou hast traveled far to find some friends of thine . ''

'' Who are you?'' Demanded Elphir, hand dropping to sword-hilt.

''Come with me and I will tell thee. I am Elven blood and I mean no harm'' The lucent eyes held the glimmering grey ones. _Trust me._

Pephennas almost fell into the room, his bleared eyes slithering over those within - the Elf, the Prince, the woman and with a feral growl of '' Genthin! '' he lunged toward Anwyn.

He received a kick from Eldarion which pitched him forward, his hand ripping the silk of the gown and came to rest at the foot of a pair of beautifully tooled doeskin boots.

They moved before he could gather himself and thrust him onto his back and he looked up the long, silvery point of a sword, into a pair of blazing sea-grey eyes in a pale skinned, face lightly tanned by southern sun and wind. Long dark hair drawn back from it's elegant lines and he heard the Prince give an exclamation, a name which the man echoed.

''I do not known whom Genthin is'' he said icily.'' But I am Elphir of Dol Amroth. And I know thee, Pephennas. The one who would claim kinship with my father'' Behind him stood four Knights of his House and one very tall Elf , whose amethyst eyes held a private, cold amusement.

''My Lord!'' Elgalad stepped across to the black-clad figure , whose sudden smile lit up the room.

''Commendable patience, my dear" Vanimórë murmured, touching his face fleetingly.

''What in the Dark... where is Genthin?'' Spluttered Pephennas, feeling the kiss of cold steel at his throat.

'' At the moment? I would imagine he is feeding the deep water fish the Bay of Belfalas.'' Vanimórë said smoothly, and his shape wavered, melting becoming slighter, brown haired and brown eyed, as * Genthin * waved his fingers mockingly at the livid Gondorian on the marble floor, before resuming his own shape. '' My sire could shift shapes - of course, it is so much easier now. '' he said obscurely.

A flood of filth issued from behind the rotting teeth as Pephennas groped for a dagger. A boot broke the bones in his wrist as Elphir disarmed him and he howled.

''I do not think I would get much for you on the slave block, Pephennas,'' the tall Elf commented. '' So what shall we do with you? You kidnapped the Prince of Gondor and Arnor, the Steward, his Lady, and her daughter, not to mention my ward. ''

A bead of blood showed as the man swallowed.'' You have magic? Power? Listen, I will do anything, are you the one Genthin spoke of?'' Blue-black hair, purple eyes, it is said, strange tattoos...a warrior .. His clearing mind desperately searched for options out of this.

'' You want northern slaves? I can get them for you.''

'' Man , if I wanted northern slaves, I could get them myself. '' Vanimórë said, coldly. '' Of course Genthin told you of me - I was Genthin . '' His white teeth gleamed icily. '' I am half-Elf, I have no hatred nor grudge against the blood of Numenor or Rohan, I saw this Lady '' he nodded toward Eowyn, '' put an end to the cursed unlife of the Witchking on the Pelennor.  
You really do not choose your enemies well, Pephennas. Greed is the undoing of most men and you truly desired to break these, did you not, see them humbled? Live like the Prince you believe you should be? The Blood of Dol Amroth? I see your lineage, Man. Your mother was a fisher-woman of the Langstrand, your father a deserter from Gondor's army whom got her with child and left her. But blood matters less than the acts one does with it. You crossed a line. You touched my ward. You would have touched others - I know this. . Unfortunately for you, I have been on the other side of those like you - one does not need to be a Dark Power to perpetrate evil. And when you are dealt with - I will deal with Genthin's contact. ''

Eldarion was staring at Vanimórë, with wide, puzzled eyes, he set his jaw. ''You took on the shape of Genthin and left us not knowing?''

''Patience, young one.'' the dark Elf looked amused. '' Killing is simply too easy. And besides, does this not give you the chance to see something of the world? Do not concern yourself with Sarduk, I have dealt with him before - at the moment, he is only concerned that your father and Prince Elphir will be drawing straws to see who gets to cut off his head first. Raj does not want a war forced on them. To him, now, you are guests. '' he bowed.~


	34. Dangerous Attraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter written by Anwyn

Anwyn felt very little. As the days had drawn on she had become better accustomed to the movements of the ship and what Faramir had called sea illness had slowly eased its grip though it had afflicted her terribly during the first few days of their and left her insides feeling hollow and pained. 

They were given food but Anwyn did not attempt to eat it. It was not until Eowyn had spoken to her in hushed tones that if there was a chance to escape she would need her strength to do so. From then on Anwyn made attempt to eat a little bit each day, even if the movements of the ship left her feeling ill.

The few times that Anwyn allowed herself to lay down and try to rest she only lingered in a light dreamless sleep, to awake at the smallest sound.

It would have be so easy in those days to allow herself feel weak and helpless, and Anwyn silently raged at the thought. This gave her strength even in the face of the knowledge that every passing moment brought them closer to separation. Anwyn fought not to dwell upon this, for now she was with those whom she cared for, the closest thing she now had to a family.  
Pephennas taunts at times found their mark in her, his touch causing her to scrub her flesh raw with what little water they had left. Anwyn endured his barbs silently; she would not see another harmed for her actions, for she did not doubt he would harm her mother if provoked. For now, she knew she must allow herself to suffer his presence and verbal barbs.

The morning they had arrived had felt like a dream as she stepped out of the small space that she had come to know so well into a place where the air was different, and the sudden blast of heat was like standing near an open flame. Anwyn was pushed onwards, as one might herd a lamb, and into a covered cart.

Anwyn looked to Eowyn whose face betrayed nothing, and while fearful Anwyn too wore an impassive expression. 

What came to follow Anwyn would long after struggle with and question if she recalled it correctly, for it seemed so unreal. 

As much as she would fight do so after, it was impossible to forget the feeling of revulsion and fear as Pephennas had lurched drunkenly towards her, Anwyn had braced herself and felt only the tug at her hip and heard the tearing of fabric as her skirt had been torn open and Anwyn stumbled backwards to put further space between herself and Pephennas.

There was suddenly a man, sternly handsome with dark hair the color of a crows wing who moved to disarm Pephennas with such efficient swiftness that Anwyn could only look on with wordless disbelief. 

When the man lifted his head and his gaze moved to meet her own, Anwyn did not look away but straightly caught his eye studying him intently feeling a peculiar feeling warmth blossomed in her chest and spread across her skin. 

Eowyn swept forward and placed hands on her daughter’s slender shoulders and Anwyn returned to herself and turned to embrace Eowyn in turn as relief and full realization flooded through her. Faramir drew close and embraced them both. 

‘Lady, are you hurt?’ 

Anwyn at first did not realize that she was being addressed; the tall dark haired man who had disarmed Pephennas had drawn closer and now looked at her with an expression of concern.

‘No…Only my gown…I am fine’ Anwyn fell over her words as the realization of what had happened continued to pour through her, and it felt for the first time in weeks she could finally breath again as the unknown fear of what may become of her and even more importantly those whom she cared for was being lifted. 

‘Prince Elphir, This is my daughter, Anwyn’

One of Elphirs dark brows shot upwards in surprise ‘Daughter? Forgive me Lady Eowyn I was unaware’

‘It is a story better kept for another time and place’ Faramir interjected firmly for which Anwyn was grateful as the matter of her birth mother was something she herself still struggled with and did not wish to stand by as it was discussed with a man that apart from name was still very much a stranger to her. 

‘Of course, apologies’ The Prince responded courteously. 

Anwyn had begun to feel strangely, as the rush of fear she had felt as Pephennas had lunged towards her began to fade away and her legs felt as though she were once again upon the ship with the deck beneath her moving, swaying back and forth with the waves. Closing her eyes she fought to steady herself.

‘Steady’ Faramir cautioned, gently taking her arm ‘You are unused to such voyages across water, what you are feeling happens to many. Your body does not yet know it is on land once again’

Leading her to a long couch Faramir sat her down and knelt before her ‘My lady too is affected by it, she is just far better at concealing it from me by now’

Refreshments were bought and Anwyn accepted a goblet, the cool sweet juice within was certainly the best thing she had tasted in quite some time. First taking a tentative sip then drinking deeply.

‘Lady Anwyn?’ Anwyn raised her eyes over the rim of the cup, Elphir stood smiling kindly down upon her. It seemed strange now to see him in such a gentle light, after just moments before he had disarmed a man with the sudden swiftness of a hawk swooping down to prey upon a rabbit. 

Anwyn swallowed, lowering the cup ‘I ask that you call me only Anwyn, Prince Elphir’ she answered quietly.

Elphir dropped down to sit beside her, the smile never once leaving his face, such a jovial spirit seemed distinctly misplaced in a place as odd at this one. There was a scent that lingered upon this man that Anwyn had come to know it well, it was the scent of the sea, of salt that in her mind conjured visions of blue white capped waves that she had glimpsed off in the distance before being brought aboard the ship. Though there would seem an air of lightness in the actions of the man Anwyn saw beyond it and recognized one who moved with the subtle efficiencies of a trained soldier, though hands sat resting lightly upon his knees she could glimpse at white healed scars upon his knuckles which stood starkly upon other tanned flesh from many days spent sailing under a bright sun. 

When her eyes returned to the Princes face Anwyn found that he had been studying her in turn, a small smile still lingering upon his lips. Though it was his eyes that drew her in, the same color though many shades darker than her own. They met her gaze so straightly and boldly, Anwyn found it difficult to look away. The dark hair that framed his face tempted her to reach out and touch it, but she dared not. Her hand at her side balled into a fist, as she reminded herself not to succumb to such a wild notion. The exhaustion and sickness was making her forget herself.

He is rather handsome for a southern man had Anwyn silently concluded. Though she still felt weary of him, the Prince had come into the room as such a overwhelming presence not long before and had disarmed Pephennas so brutally that she almost felt sorry for the man, almost. Still it did not allow her to feel fully at ease, she had not completely lowered her guard in quite some time and was not prepared to do so now.

From the corner of her eye Anwyn caught Eldarion looking in her direction, a frown evident upon his handsome features before he abruptly turned away. Anwyn’s lips parted as she were about to call out to him.  
No, this was not the time. It was all still too fresh, too close. Anwyn felt as though she personally owed Eldarion an apology, she felt in a way responsible as it was her adopted brother who had joined with Pephennas. It was a betrayal unlike anything she had ever known and still felt very keenly felt the hurt, Anwyn could not bring herself to speak of it to her mother, she worried that she might be seen as cut from a too close a cloth. 

Eowyn wordlessly drew close and sat down beside her daughter, putting her arms around her daughter’s slender shoulders. It was a small though protective gesture, perhaps Anwyn had allowed the hurt she felt to show, there were times such as this where her guard was lowered and such things would show clearly upon her face. Or perhaps it was simply that Eowyn knew her own need for rest and sensed the same in her daughter. 

‘There are chambers that will be made ready for us to use. I think you would do well to take some rest, Anwyn’ Eowyn suggested kindly. 

‘Yes’ Anwyn agreed rising to her feet, grateful that the ground once again felt firm beneath them. 

‘My men and I shall take watch during the night to ensure that nothing more troubles you until we set sail in the morning’ Elphir declared also rising to his feet. 

Anwyn smiled faintly and bowed her head in response, she was grateful though as she allowed herself to be lead away by Eowyn she felt the Princes eyes upon her back and resisted her own desire to turn and look back. 


	35. New Horizons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter written by Spiced Wine

Eldarion held his arms over his chest, as one keeping all else away from him, and when he heard the soft voice of Elgalad close to him , he turned a set face , under the starlight.  
'' The stars are larger here - or so they seem . '' He murmured.

Elgalad glanced up with a nod. '' Yes, they are, I have n-noticed it , my L-Lord says they are n-not, it is just something to d-do with the airs above Arda. ''

'' And your Lord knows many things, I do not doubt. ''

'' He is very old, even for an ... Elf, a Peredhel Prince Eldarion, he was b-born in the First Age. And I am n-not young, myself. I know... how it is t-to want something which one may n-not have. ''

He saw the flush come up under the alabaster complexion as the young man turned to him: '' Of what do you speak, of your Lord? I saw him.. kiss you, there does not seem to be any great concern there , if it is he that you mean. ''

'' He is not my lover. '' Elgalad said quietly. '' It is t-true that I would... wish h-him to be, for I love him, b-but I am in his care... and he will n-not possess me. '' He saw Eldarion’s black brows draw close.

'' What does this have to do with me? '' Whispered Eldarion, turning away.

'' Naught, Prince, if you wouldst have it so. '' came the gentle reply and he heard the hissed breath. '' I d-do not read minds, but it is not n-necessary to do so, I see by your eyes, h-hear in your voice. ''

'' Whatever I may want I should doubt it is reciprocated. Ever since I was a youth the noblest unmarried women of Gondor and its Outlands have been presented to me in Minas Tirith and not one has roused my interest.  
Lord Elladan said I was yet too young, for I have Numenorean and Elven blood and there is no hurry, no rush; I trust and hope my father will live many long years. But Anwyn is different, and I do not believe she is the kind to be that impressed that I am a Prince, and why should she be, she is Eowyn's daughter, the White Lady who slew the Witchking. But I think another Prince impressed her. '' He moved impatiently, walking along the path, his feet silent. '' I have known Elphir since I was a child and I like him very much, I always considered him my closest friend. And now I feel I could hate him - and I do not like it! And I feel useless - though our journey, the voyage, I did nothing. Your Lord said to me there was nothing I could have done without endangering the others, but I was afraid to do anything, and I should not have been. ''

'' I did n-naught either, Prince . ''

'' I know, and yet - my father is Elessar - he would have! ''

'' When he was t-two and twenty? '' Elgalad asked, softly. '' I think very few w-would have and if my L-Lord said you could have done n-nothing, he knows, believe me. ''

The Prince paused looking at the buildings which stood, gleaming pearl-pale under the stars and moon.  
'' How do you live with desiring what you cannot have? '' he murmured.

'' I live b-because something ... c-care, friendship, affection, is better than n-nothing. ''

Eldarion was drawn out of his own self absorption by the acceptance in the soft voice. He breathed. '' How can it be? ''

'' Perhaps for the s-son of a King, it c-cannot be. But for me... it has to be . '' Said the son of Amroth whom had once been King of Lorinand.

'' I am sorry, Elgalad. '' the young man said. '' I am behaving like a princely spoiled brat. '' He bowed his head.

'' I do n-not see you as that. '' The Sinda smiled. '' C-come, you also should rest. ''

As they entered the building, Eldarion saw Elphir standing with his men outside the room which, he guessed Anwyn occupied, and his own expression took the words of greeting from both prince's lips, as both saw something in the other than denied speech.

Eldarion entered a chamber and sought out a bed, but it was long before he sank into the half reverie, half sleep of one of his blood and his dreams were strange to him, laced with lust, passion, so that he woke, to a still, hot dawn with the sheets clammy around him and sat up abruptly, pushing back damp hair.

There was a tray of food and fresh pressed juice on a table and he drank and then bathed, finding fresh clothes laid out, in the style of this land. Walking out into the gardens, he found Elgalad talking to the tall Dark Elf, who greeted him with a nod .

''What is happening to Pephennas... Lord..? '' Eldarion asked, after the greetings.

''Nothing thou wouldst wish to know of, Prince Eldarion.'' Vanimórë replied with a subtle smile.

''I think I do wish to know, after all, since he kidnapped us and ..'' he flushed , '' wanted me, and Anwyn and Elgalad. ''

''He will be punished , fittingly. '' Vanimórë said.'' and as one whom always boasted of his blood ties to Dol Amroth. ''


	36. At the Dawn of a New Day

Anwyn awoke with a start.

She did not have any memory of falling asleep. Pushing aside long damp ropes of hair away from her face Anwyn now groggily recalled bathing away the grime of many days travel at sea and then finding her way onto a bed where bone deep exhaustion she had long felt must have finally set in and claimed her.

Having slept Anwyn felt far from rested. Pushing herself up to sit at the side of the bed she glimpsed out the wide doors that lead into the gardens. Beyond high trees that formed an uneven horizon she saw a faint golden glow reaching upwards.

Bare feet padded silently against the marble floor as she moved to where a pitcher of water and a plate of fruit had been left. Giving more than a small cursory prod at some of the pieces of fruit which were strange and held no appeal to her Anwyn poured herself a glass of water and raised it to her lips when there was a faint rustle from the garden beyond.

Silently setting down the glass Anwyns long fingers slid against the handle of a silver knife that had been left to cut the fruit. Picking it up she rested the blade against her palm, closing her fingers around it and concealing it. The blade was was not sharp, it did not bite into her flesh but it was slightly more than nothing. 

For all of it’s exotic beauty Anwyn did not allow herself to lower her guard and allow herself to feel safe in this gilded Palace. If she were to be taken, again, unawares then it would be her own fault. So she would defend herself.

The movement beyond was growing more pronounced, louder, as though whoever was there had no care if their presence was known. For the briefest moment Anwyn felt a shift towards doubt, perhaps she was wrong and whoever was there meant her no harm? Even so a cold hand of fear twisted itself in her gut. Too often had she allowed herself to be taken unawares, no longer she silently vowed to herself.

Sheer instinct moved her hand as the figure emerged from the bushes and into her sight, a steel grip closed around her slencer wrist and she cried out from more surprise than pain and the small blunt knife fell from her hand and clanged noisily against the floor at her feet. 

‘Anwyn’ Elphir appeared as startled as she felt to be looking at the Prince of Dol Amroth who quickly released her hand and Anwyn swiftly recoiled, drawing her hand back against her chest.

‘What….what were you doing?’ Anwyn demanded, words momentarily failing her.

‘I told you that your rooms would be watched’ Elphir explained the look of surprise slowly leaving his handsome face, a smile now tugging at the edge of his full lips ‘Perhaps there was no need of it’

‘So you prowl about in the bushes outside my room?’ Anwyn looked tilted her face telling away, color now growing in her pale cheeks.

‘Forgive me for that, I did not mean to frighten you’

‘Of course you did not and you did not frighten me’ Anwyn replied hotly, at once feeling so foolish and angry that she felt upon the verge of tears.

‘You do not know how I have come to be here. If you knew you would not sneak about and make light.’

Elphir considered this for a moment ‘It is true, I know very little about you save that you are Lady Eowyn’s daughter. Within you I can sense in you that you also possess her bold spirit and her her beauty. I hope that in time I shall be able to prove that you can trust me’

‘Trust’ Anwyn gave a small low laugh at this ‘I have more reason to trust Eldarion whom I have scarcely known for a full cycle of the moon then I have for one I have known my entire life. I no longer know who I may give trust to. Of late it has been far too often wrongly given’

‘Allow me to earn yours’ Elphir spoke quietly taking a step towards her even as Anwyn took a half step back, shaking her head and her eyes silently pleading to keep the distance between them.

‘Why should you, a Prince and Heir of Dol Amroth, care what I the illegimate daughter of a noblewoman, thinks? If it were not for me Prince Eldarion, Lord Faramir and his Lady wife would not be here. They would have never been put in such danger if they had not helped me. I have caused far more trouble than I am worth’

Anwyn wiped at her eyes hastily with the back of her hand. It grieved her deeply that one whom she had once considered family had so callously betrayed her and those whom travelled with her.   
‘None of this is your fault. I have known Eldarion all of his life, he would have given you his aid even if he knew it might place him in danger. Lord Faramir is my Kinsman; I am certain he would have done no differently. You are the daughter of his wife; he too would wish to protect you’

‘I no longer know what I am to do. I have no home, no family to return to. Everything I have ever known has been taken from me. I have never before felt so weak…so exposed’ Anwyn confessed. 

As soon as the words had fallen from her lips Anwyn wished to take them back, she turned away to spare herself the look of pity she knew that she would receive.   
It could not matter what this man thought of her, he was owed her gratitude for he had followed all this way and had saved them from an unspeakable fate. Every word that had fallen from her had peeled away that which she would rather keep hidden, buried deep within where she would have them stay

‘I think it takes a great deal of strength, to endure all of what you have, and still possess the will to fight’ Elphir spoke into the silence which had grown in the room. The light was growing stronger now, it framed the Princes tall figure as he stood with his back towards the gardens, Anwyn half turned to face him fully now. 

‘We have been given a new day and light to sail by as no night is ever without end. You shall see brighter days yet to come Lady Anwyn, this I do swear’

Bowing formally at the waist to her, a gesture of deep respect which only served to fluster the speechless Anwyn further, Prince Elphir turned crisply upon his heel and strode outwards into the Gardens, many of his thoughts turned now to the voyage that lay ahead while some lingered upon the woman whom stood silently behind him


	37. Chapter 37

As the dawn broke it found Anwyn already having risen and washed, restlessness had claimed her for most of the night and she could not be still any longer. Anwyn considered the bowl of fruit left in her room for a long moment before selecting at a bright red apple and continuing on her way.

They had arrived at the King’s palace at Annúminas the evening prior at dusk after a swift uneventful voyage by sea and then they had acquired horses and ridden onwards.

The Castle rose starkly white against a sea of emerald green. It had been built long ago on the edge of a sprawling forest before a great lake which stretched out towards the mountains in the horizon. Rulers who had come before had no longer visited it, and for a time it had fallen quiet and the woods around had reclaimed some of its grounds. Elessar had long since reclaimed it and spent summers there with his family.  
Here was a place that at first sight seemed free of the rigid formalities of the Kings home within Minas Tirth. Or so it seemed. There were still guards present, sworn to protect the King and his family. There were still many formalities to be observed. Within this Palace Anwyn had been given her own room, and was permitted to come and go as she wished which pleased her immensely given the events of prior weeks. 

Anwyn halted, allowing the cool stillness of the early morning to fill her. After the still heat of the south, she welcomed the cooler air; it had been quite some time since Anwyn found herself in such high spirits as the day felt fresh and full of potential.

Her stride over the lush bank of the lake was quick and eager; the early morning mist lingered low upon the blue gray waters of the mirror still lake. 

Biting into the apple, Anwyn wiped away the juice that trickled down her chin with the back of her hand.

At that moment a stag and doe broke from their cover of the dense wood off the lake. First the stag and then followed a doe. Anwyn stood completely still, watching as the doe bent her head to drink from the lake, creating small ripples which broke across the smooth surface.

Though Anwyn had not moved, dared not even to breathe the stag turned its head towards her with a grunt and stomped a slender leg against the ground before turning and bounding back into the woods, the doe was close behind with white tail flung high.

Anwyn watched them go, envying their grace and swiftness. They moved like the wind itself. If only she could be so quick, or so free.

Drawing closer to the water’s edge and closely mindful of the grass made slick by the mornings dew Anwyn leaned forward study her own reflection in the water raising her hand to brush a stray strand of hair behind her ear and gave a cry of surprise as another reflection appeared at her shoulder. The apple dropped from her hand and landed in the water with a small splash.

Anwyn quickly spun around to face the man, her gray eyes wide with alarm.

“Forgive me Lady Anwyn. I did not mean to startle you” Prince Elphir gave a small bow of greeting.

Anwyn cursed her own inattentiveness. So taken by the sight of the deer she had momentarily forgotten herself and had not been at all mindful of her surroundings. 

The feelings she had towards the Prince were what caused her to keep a distance from him, at least until she understood her own heart. There was a draw to him that she fought to ignore, she did not understand it and she felt not frightened, more intrigued wishing to know more but at the same time drawing back. It seemed foolish that the Prince should have any more than a passing interest in her. 

‘No…you did not’ Anwyn’s gaze slid momentarily to the apple that was now bobbing in the dark waters before returning to the Prince.

The Prince this day had shed his impressive silver armor and was dressed simply in a soft blue tunic with silver embroidery about the collar and his long dark hair pulled back using a simple leather tie. For the simplicity of it Anwyn thought he looked no less regal or princely in appearance, still carrying himself with an air of quiet elegance. If she were to guess he too had risen with the sun and enjoyed the stillness and quiet of the morning.

‘Would you like to walk with me? I would be grateful for your company’ Elphir offered his arm and though hesitant Anwyn reached out and accepted it. 

They walked in silence, as though neither felt the urge to fill the quiet with empty questions or remarks. This was new and strange to Anwyn, to be so close to a man without escort, not that his treatment of her had been anything less than perfectly cordial.

The close proximity of their bodies allowed her to catch scent of the spiced soap that the Prince must have washed with before dressing. Anwyn felt her face growing warm as her mind conjured images of how Elphir may appear when not dressed in such fine clothes, how it may feel to be able to reach out and run her fingers lightly down his naked chest…

Anwyn felt the Princes eyes on her and in silent response straightened her back, pushing the thoughts swiftly from her mind and fervently hoped that such blood warming thoughts had not shown on her face. Such thoughts were an unwelcome distraction to her, she was merely a guest in a word of such high blood and power and in time she would be leave it. It would be folly to get attached to anything, or anyone.

‘Your mother has spoken very highly of you; she has told me you were very brave in the face of the traitor Pephennas’ 

The very name caused coldness to run down her spine and bile to the back of her throat, she hoped her mother had not told the Prince all of it, he did not need to know of all the ways which he had tormented them through their long journey. 

‘I could not yield myself to one who has betrayed those they have sworn to protect’ To her own ears the words sounded prideful and strong, the Prince could not know how her stomach churned at the memory nor could he fell the deep keen sting that she felt knowing still that a man whom she had loved as a brother had aided him to gain a way to her. That blood had been shed to do so. 

Elphir stopped abruptly and turned to face her ‘Lady Eowyn also told me of your family. Of a man who you called Father and of his son who you once called brother and who followed you to Gondor’

‘Then he betrayed me. Yes, It is true’ Anwyn stared out at the lake as she spoke, she did not wish to own the shame of an actions of another, but they were raised together, they had once shared everything except blood. What had happened to him that had so changed his heart towards her?

‘You speak as though it is of little consequence’ Elphir remarked, studying her.

‘It is of one matter to lose the life you once knew, it is of another to then loose those who were a part of it. I do not wish to dwell upon what I have lost’

‘Yet you have gained a new friend in Prince Eldarion, he is very fond of you’ Elphir ventured, his eyes never leaving her face.

‘He became a friend to me when I had no other though he did not trust me at first. Perhaps he was unwise to do so’

‘To trust?’

Anwyn inclined her chin slightly ‘Yes’

'Do you trust me?' Elphir asked, and Anwyn did not have need to think overly long upon it.

'Yes' Anwyn answered slowly 'I do...my heart tells me that you are noble and all of your actions have shown me you are kind'

The all too familiar smile was pulling at the edges of the Princes lips again 'Would this not make you unwise?'

Anwyn threw her head back and gave a hearty laugh, it was a loud mirthful sound that seemed overly loud on such a quiet still morning. Covering her mouth her hand though her bright grey eyes shone with amusement.

'No one has ever accused me of wisdom, Prince Elphir'


	38. 'Welcome to Arda Marred'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter written by Spiced Wine

'' Always remember, in battle, one must have eyes in the back of one's head. ''

Eldarion felt the prick of steel on both his kidneys, saw Elgalad's eyes go over his shoulder and smile and then the sensation was withdrawn and the Prince turned to see the black haired Elf. His hands were empty now, the twin blades having gone back into their housings.

'' My lord '' Elgalad inclined his head, obviously used to the sudden, and unannounced appearances of this one.

'' Elgalad . '' his purple eyes, a dense , unnatural colour in that light, returned to Eldarion. '' Thou dost move well, young Prince. ''

'' Le hannon, '' The reply was in flawless Sindarin, it was also somewhat cold, even curt.

_He does not trust me, I cannot blame him, he has good sense._

'' I am h-honored to train with h-him. '' Elgalad murmured.

'' I would like to see your moves, Lord...? '' He did not know the name and Elgalad always referred to him as '' Lord.''

'' Vanimórë. ''

'' Vanimórë Hir ... '' He gasped as his right hand stung and the sword flew from his grip to land, point deep in the soft turf. He had seen ... nothing save a brief flash of silver. Mortified and astonished he retrieved his blade.

'' He d-does that to me, also, Prince. '' the Elf said, with a smile in his voice.

'' I am old, Elessarion and my learning was bloody and brutal. I would not wish it on any but those I loathe. '' the Vala said.

'' What makes a good swordsman? Is it inborn? '' Eldarion asked.

'' Some are given by nature. Speed of hand, a good eye, balance, and an ability to close the doors on ones fears, free the mind. Empty the mind of all other things and then the body is freed to do what it has been trained to.

A good swordsman does this, and will flow into combat like a dancer. Go into battle fearing death and you will die, young Prince. There is also * heart * for want of a better word, some people do not have it, when the odds become great , they cannot reach in to anything, courage, defiance, will, determination. The fear takes hold, the body becomes more clumsy, their strokes and parries wilder, and they will see their own death, and that death will come swiftly. ''

He cast about, under the nearby trees, picked up a fallen twig and snapped it, until it was about a hand span in length.

He crossed to Eldarion and held it below the Prince's hands.

''When I drop this, catch it . ''

Eldarion's hand snapped downward, catching the stick almost before gravity seized it, and looked confused.

'' That is reaction time. You see the stick fall, your mind sends the message to catch it to the hand and arm, and only then do you move to catch it - all that time it is already falling. But not with you. Your reactions are elven swift. Very good. Ask any-one at the palace, a friend, a servant, some-one who tends the horses to do that ; then ask some-one you know to be a fine swordsman. Many who train use that to test a young warriors speed of reaction. It seems pointless, but see how many cannot do it. All Elves can, of course, but with men , it is , for me , a mark of how fast they will be. ''

'' I see. '' The Prince nodded, his eyes were speculative. '' You are Noldo, are you not? Of the Elder Days? ''

'' I do have Noldo in my blood, yes. '' Vanimórë nodded. '' But that is not why I came. I came to speak with thee, specifically. ''

'' With me? '' A touch of wariness entered the pale gray eyes, already Eldarion knew how people would seek to use him to get favors from his father, but this thought faded almost as soon as it were born. Vanimórë did not look as if he required favors from any-one, King or no.

'' Walk with me a while'' _Wait here, Meluion, he will need thee shortly._ He turned and Eldarion perforce, followed; he was not used to taking orders, but something in the wine rich voice commanded it.

Coming to a low rise, Vanimórë halted. before them the lake shone northern blue under the sky; the castle against it was pearl white, something numinous and unreal.

Two figures were in the distance, one a man, tall, and dark haired, the other slighter, fair as a wheat field. Eldarion's face became closed as he gazed and then he looked away.

'' One of my gifts is the ability to *see* things in others minds, though I consider it rather rude to do so without reason - but every-one sends out easily readable emanations, with their eyes, and body. And thine are clear. And although it truly is none of mine concern, Meluion is troubled for thee. ''

Eldarion's hands pulled back through his loose hair and he said, on an explosive breath something he had probably learned or heard in the stables.

''Personally, it would make no difference to me - when one reaches a certain level of power, conventional attitudes, of any kind, are no longer relevant. And they never were very relevant to me. '' The gemlike eyes held the grey ones. ''My first experience of intimacy was rape, and my father continued it, after that one was gone, for a very long time.''

The Prince was held motionless with shock; it was very rare for rape to occur among Elves, and they died of it their wounded souls and their violated bodies too closely linked to survive, as a Mortal usually did. It also seemed impossible that any-one could force this one to do anything he did not wish to. Through the words, ones emerged , that cause him to blink ; A certain level of power....conventional attitudes are no longer relevant

'' I am sorry, I do not know.. what you mean. ''

'' Thou art drawn to the Lady? And for the first time, but not the last , thou dost know desire desire. As I say, I would not care, although I had a sister once, and it would not have occurred to me to want her -- not then, anyway, whom knows, had she lived? ''

Confusion swirled through the prince. '' A sister ? But...''

And he fell dumb.

'' You and Anwyn share the same sire. '' Vanimórë said, quite gently.

The ground seemed to tilt under his feet and his eyes flew to the far-off, fair haired figure on the lake shore.

'' No... '' It was a whisper. '' She is Eowyn's daughter.... not... my father would never... he loves my mother... that would mean...''

'' Yes, she is older than you. This occurred during the War of the Ring. It is perfectly natural for men to feel desire after battle, it is after all, an affirmation that they are alive and can also engender life - thou wilt see, Prince, that many children are born nine months after a war. ''

'' My father never looked at another beside my mother, he was betrothed to her for....so long! '' Eldarion said fiercely '' You lie. ''

'' I am capable of lying, but I do not lie in this instance . '' The very indifference of the reply somehow sent hair-roots of calm through Eldarion, more than anger would have. Vanimórë sounded as if he did not much care whether he was believed or not.

'' How can you know? ''

'' It is at the forefront of the Lady Eowyn's mind when she looks at her daughter, one needs not to rummage very far to see it. And hast thou not found her familiar? Something in her face, her eyes? She has thy sires eyes. ''

'' My father would not... ''

'' Oh come, he is a man is he not? '' Vanimórë asked amusedly. '' He was not with thy mother and Eowyn is a woman of spirit and pride and courage; a fitting match, many would say, when thy mother was in Imladris, guarded and protected as if she were a spoil of war. ''

'' My sister... '' Eldarion swallowed. '' Valar, I want her and she is my sister? ''

'' Well, half sister, to be perfectly accurate. ''

'' I must see my father! ''

''He does not know. It is not for either of us to tell him. I tell thee only because Meluion cares for both of thee and would not have thee do something thou wilt later regret and bring sorrow upon others, in the act.''

'' I feel sick. '' the Prince muttered and a wineskin was held out to him. He drank, feeling the cool yellow stuff in his throat and stomach. He imagined walking into the palace , finding his father, asking to speak to him privately --- no.... he could not, if any-one did, it could not be him.  
The wine had steadied him a little, he closed his eyes.

'' What a curse to have a conscience. '' Vanimórë said softly, '' I have one at whiles, an annoyance, is it not? There are some tribes in the south whom encourage brothers and sisters to wed. They believe it keeps the royal line pure - however I have always observed that inbreeding tends to produce instability in the minds and bodies. ''

'' Her -- the one she thought was her brother, Eadbearn... he disgusted her - she would be disgusted with me - is that why ..? ''

'' Nay, Prince, she feels somehow linked to thee but does not know why, and thou hast not acted like Eadbearn. But her feelings for thee are more sisterly, than that of lover. She is much attracted to Elphir, and that would be a good match, whether or no her sire were ever known. One day, thou may as be as powerful as Ar Pharazon, though I hope, not as mad, or ill advised, but until then... one must dance to the tune of law and convention. '' He smiled mockingly.

'' I will never tell her...'' Eldarion looked up then, something resolute in his eyes. '' But --- ''

'' Thou hast found that knowing this thou still desire her? ''

And there it was, dragged out from the Prince's soul.

'' Welcome to Arda Marred, Prince Eldarion. '' Said Vanimórë Gorthaurion, with a grim smile.


	39. The Dangers of High Ambition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Spiced Wine

Elgalad watched, as the Prince sat, his back to the lake, his head bowed, his very shoulders stiff, and there was a frown between his own brows as his Lord finished his tale.

'' And he desires her still? '' the Sinda murmured.

'' Do we not both know what it is to desire one that one may not have? '' The grey-blue eyes looked into the amethyst, a faint smile curved Vanimórë's modelled mouth.

'' It is no sin, hen vuin . Whom could not have desired her, Isilien. Thou art not strange in any way, and it is no betrayal of me. '' And I betray thee, Meluion vuin, for I cannot have thee, yet I am not cold, I have my needs and they must not spill over to thee. But that thought did not reach the Elf's mind. It was something he never discussed with the Sinda. He could see that Elgalad had desired Isilien, he could see that he desired himself, but was still untouched. He had never had a lover. He thought, innocently, that his Lord, - since he did not keep a chambers of women in Secundus, did not take lovers. He really knew little about the one he was owned by . Vanimórë had always taken lovers, if he desired them. Never by force, and never for long, and not at all for periods of hundreds of years, when his sire began to kill those he had chosen. He preferred courtesans, as the woman in Minas Tirith, since they saw it as business and did not expect love, it was paradoxical that he should love - indeed need - his Sinda's adoration but would not have desired it in another. But he had never had any thought of not taking other lovers; he could not, or would not, have Elgalad, but his fire was a dark, burning one, he had no intention of starving himself. His lack of a seraglio in his Kingcity, was for Elgalad's sake, not because he lacked desire.

'' But she was -- is n-not my sister. ''

'' Did she not call thee her little brother? She considered thee as that. '' Elgalad's high cheekbones coloured and he looked down. Vanimórë put an arm about the wide shoulders. '' Tell no-one, say nothing. But he should know; he will anyway, sooner or later, but now, at least, he has the chance to deal with it. Go to him, sit with him a while. Thou dost understand him. ''

The Elf nodded and walked down the grass slope, silently, sitting not far from the prince, linking his hands about one bent knee.

'' Did you know? '' Eldarion's profile was hard, white against the fall of his dark hair, and he did not look aside .

'' N-not until just now, P-Prince. ''

''And what do you think of me .. now ? '' The other demanded, almost as if spoiling for a fight, to have Elgalad say that he was horrified .

''Of thee? Naught, for how couldst thou know? And as my Lord reminded me, I too have felt desire where it could never be reciprocated. ''

''Of your sister? ''

''I have no k-kin, but still I know.''

Eldarion turned his head. ''It makes me ... incestuous. '

'He said the word with bitter loathing. '' And when I learned of it I should have--- should have felt an immediate antipathy, felt -- like a brother. But I did not. I am twisted! ''

'' No, thou art not t-twisted. '' Elgalad exclaimed. '' I do n-not know why such things are, mayhap thou wilt, in t-time, see her as a sister, this is very s-sudden, it came from nowhere. Wouldst thou rather n-not know? ''

A sigh passed the Prince's lips. ''I cannot see that it makes any difference, she does not look at me in that way . It will make a difference to my father - when he knows."

His lips tightened. '' I cannot tell him. I never even imagined.... '' a blush overcame his face. '' My parent's story is like an old lay - people compare her , my mother, to Luthien. ''

Elgalad heard the wry chuckle sound in his mind. His Lord had never seen Luthien, but Gorthaur had and showed his son her image, as if to paint a grim contrast between the glory that was the daughter of Thingol and Melian and whatever Vanimórë was. Arwen was no Luthien , there would never again be one like Tinuviel, whom had danced under the stars in Doriath before the Sun and the Moon had risen.

''It d-does not make him less a great K-King, or a loving father. ''

The Prince leaned back on his hands. ''I know - and I do not think that, and I know I do not understand war, yet, and what -- appetites it could invoke. ''

''The Lady Eowyn is a fine w-woman, I do n-not believe thy sire just ... used her, P-Prince. ''

''Call me Eldarion, I beg you. I need a friend, not one whom titles me every time he opens his lips. '' He reached out a hand. '' I am sorry, but so many people are so formal with me. That is not what I need at this moment, Elgalad. ''

''I understand, Eldarion . '' The Elf gripped his wrist, strongly.

'' Does your Lord know? How can he see so much, know so much? Is he Istar, like Mithrandir? ''

'' I d-did not know what h-he was for a l-long time, it is not for me to speak of it. '' Elgalad murmured. '' But he m-may tell thee, if thou dost ask it. ''

Grateful for anything that took his mind on another pathway, the Prince rose, turning to where Vanimórë was sitting, cross legged, apparently simply enjoying the later afternoon sun. Meeting the upward flash of the purple eyes Eldarion found his question's dying on his lips, as the other uncoiled and came to his feet.

''I have Maia blood, as Luthien did '' Vanimórë answered the question.

''But I believed the only union between Elf and Ainu was Luthien. '' Eldarion was shocked.

''It is probably the only one that counts.'' Vanimórë shrugged. '' My life was in secret, in the dark, or far away in the south and east. There is this about the Dark, Prince Eldarion; it both hates the Light and hungers for it. And some powers can chain unwilling spirits within their bodies. It was seen in the Elder Days. Thus I was born. When thou art older, thou wilt understand more - about many things. ''

''If you have lived so long, advise me . '' The Prince said, almost in desperation.

Vanimórë laughed, the sound rich and deep. Gorthaur had become close, advisor and in truth, ruler, of Ar Pharazon of Numenor, here now, was a descendant of Numenor, the son of Elessar , asking advice of Sauron's son.

''It is so amusing? '' Eldarion demanded heatedly .

''Only form my viewpoint, young one. '' The Dark one said, smiling. '' Advice is not easy to give to any-one, and any whom blindly takes it, could only be young, or foolish . Thou art only the former . Thy feelings are natural , but toward one whom is close kin to thee in blood. And as Melion said, that has only just been revealed to thee . Give it time, hen . And it is not, either, her blame. ''

' I know. But even if.... we were not kin , she would not want me. ''

''And that is the spear which goes into the heart is it not. Join the ranks of the rejected, Eldarion Telcontar. It is always the way, the women of the court would have thee , and one whom thou dost want, does not want thee.

''He glanced at the sky. '' Elgalad, thou shouldst return with the Prince now. ''

''There is music and feasting tonight, on the lakeshore.'' Eldarion murmured, feeling utterly unlike any gathering or celebration. And how was he to act around his father, knowing what he knew?

Elgalad said gently. ''This l-land, and these p-people are also strange to the Lady Anwyn, Eldarion, and she n-needs a friend, just as thou dost. ''

For a moment, the Prince did not reply and then he nodded. '' I know, I am... selfish, I did not think. Lady Eowyn of course, but....''

''It will not be the men who try to make her uncomfortable '' Vanimórë said dryly. '' It will be the women. She is new - and however noble born, illegitimate, and beautiful, and already has attracted the attention of probably the second most eligible man in the Re-United Kingdom. That is enough to have the cats sharpening their claws , it is the same in all courts. Well... not mine, but then it is a different culture. ''

Eldarion, who knew too little about the vicious sweetness of some women, looked uncomfortable. '' I will not have that, '' he said and Vanimórë gave a white smile.

'' It is impossible to avoid, thou art on a stage where thou dost not know the rules, Prince, and thou and Elphir are prizes. ''

**

The evening was balmy. Coloured lamps lit the gardens and some floated on pontoons on the lake, for whom wished to be within walls, however elegant, on these scented summer nights? Servants stood behind tables of food and wine, and nobles walked, or sat or stood talking, there was the scent of perfumes and pipe weed, since that had grown in favor since Elessar took the throne.

Eldarion came down from his rooms , where he had dressed, and glanced around the garden, it was high walled, opening to a sward which bounded the lake, and a stone jetty. There was a pretty rustle of silk as the court women made sweeping curtsey's and the older men bowed, which he returned , courteously. A servant came with a tray of chilled wine and he nodded his thanks. He could not see Anwyn anywhere and his eyes flashed white sparks as he imagined that she might be with Elphir, but he felt a touch on his arm and looked around to see Elgalad smile. The Elf was robed in black, with touches of emerald green, his hair in intricate braids, and a white gold circlet set with a sapphire on his brow. His Lord was not here; he had said he was not a guest, and would not impose on another King unless invited, but Eldarion suspected he was around, somewhere.

''My lord, do you look for the Lady Anwyn? '' There was a gust of flowery scent and the Prince felt a sense of relief. This was Olwen, daughter of Beregond. His own age, she was married to a Knight in the service of Imrahil, and had no doubt come with the people of Dol Amroth.

''Lady, '' he inclined his head with a smile. He had known her well when younger, and she was much like her father, her eyes a little dreamy, and her smile sweet. '' Have you seen her? ''

''She was here a little while ago, she may be by the lake, Prince Elphir escorts her. '' She lowered her voice. '' Himeth is here. I call her Himeth, cold as an icicle that one, but she has her eyes on Lord Elphir, '' A dimple peeped out. '' She is here with her father, and she was putting herself in Elphir's way, so he took Lady Anwyn away. ''

Eldarion nodded. '' She is well escorted then. ''

''Oh, yes, my Lord. ''

''Very well, thank you, Olwen. '' The Prince stifled his annoyance.

''The Lady should be sitting d-down. '' At Elgalad's words, Eldarion looked confused for a moment, and saw the woman's eyes widen and rest on her stomach.

'' Oh, '' he said, suddenly understanding and blushing as he gave Olwen his arm . '' Let us find you a seat. ''

''So Elves do read minds? '' Her expression was startled, but Elgalad gave a sweet smile. he had not read her mind, but sensed it in some way, in the glow in her eyes and the way she held herself.

'' Some do, perhaps.'' the prince thought of Vanimórë.

'' You have my greatest good wishes , Lady. ''

She swept her skirts aside as she sat. '' It is very early, Hisaelion is so very pleased. ''

''He is fortunate, indeed, but should you have traveled, as you are ? ''

Olwen laughed. '' It was an easy journey, he insisted I use a palanquin, and I love the air, here, I am sure it will do the child much good. You will be a fretting husband, my Lord. ''

Eldarion flushed. '' You should stay, we do not leave until autumn comes. And will it not be uncomfortable for you by then? ''

'' My Lord, women are not made of cobweb, I have never felt better. I will travel again by palanquin, on the journey south. ''

''She will be well, L-Lord Eldarion.'' Elgalad said .

''That much I can tell, and my b-blessing also thou hast, hiril nin .''

Her face flushed, and she beamed, delighted to have an Elf speak so, sure it was indeed a good omen, and portended good fortune.

A woman, her steps determined and her head high marched past, a little way away and Olwen said.

''Ah dear, that is Himeth - she is on the scent of Prince Elphir, I fear. ''

Eldarion thought he would not mind in the least if that hard faced young woman with the glittering jewels came between Elphir and Anwyn, and then he sighed.

''Perhaps I should intervene '' he said. ''Elgalad? ''

''I will do as you wish.''

''Would you stay with Lady Olwen ?'' The Prince asked, and the Elf nodded. Eldarion took a deep breath and walked in the woman's angry wake, down through the gate.

A covey of young women swept by, their summer silk bliauts like butterflies wings, having mastered the art of making curstey's while they walked, bright eyes casting glances at him. Eldarion remembered what Elgalad's Lord had said, of many children being born not long after a war. This was true, the court was full of young people, around his own age, in the exuberance and promise of Elessar's crowning and the downfall of Sauron there had been many - hasty - marriages. It was almost as if nature itself, or Eru, wished children to replace those lost in battles and give a new sense of hope.

From speaking to Faramir, Eldarion knew it was a gayer, brighter, richer court than the years of his father's stewardship, and it was likened to the first years of Numenor, when the Edain had basked in the favor of the Valar. But for so long had the shadow in the East loomed, and Gondor been a place of guard, a a frontier of war, that to live without that omnipresent threat was intoxicating.

''Do not make the mistake of thinking evil vanished with Gorthaur' Vanimórë had said, before he parted from them , earlier in the afternoon. '

Evil will exist until the world is remade, it will not come in the same form, but it is always here. Where a man beats his wife, abuses a child, steals, murders, inflicts pain , where there is lies, and ambition - there is evil. It does not need a fallen Ainu to cause it. Although it is indeed his hand, a spirit of Hate and malice, which was woven into the great music. Thy sire knows these things, there is the potential for it in all Men. Thou didst see that with Pephennas and the men whom took orders from him without questioning.''

''What happened to him?'' The Prince had asked, unwillingly.

'' He was punished, but he is merely one man in many, learn this, young Prince. ''

'' Do you know how Pephennas was punished ? '' He had asked Elgalad, as they rode to the palace and the Elf had shaken his head.

''Hir nin does not tell me everything. ''

The springy turf sloping down to the lake, and the jetty stretched west and east, here others walked, but mostly men and women, seeking a little privacy to talk , perhaps having made assignations, a little flown on wine and the days of sun.

Ahead of him, the determined strides of the woman called Himeth , paused as she cast about. Eldarion tried to think whom she was, but she appared to be of Dol Amroth, no doubt a Knight or Lord's daughter, and he did not recognize her, but the predatory way of her actions he had seen before. He wondered what it would like to be desired and wanted not as a Prince, or Lord, but simply as a man; how could one ever tell if it was one's position which they wanted, or the person behind the titles and wealth? Not that, he thought, with a touch of sour honesty, Elphir need concern himself about that; he was noble, fair of face, a Swan Knight, a musician, a sailor, he had many fine qualities.

The group of ladies had also halted, a little way away, enjoying the night-breeze from the cool lake. Perhaps, he thought, that was what made Anwyn so unique, she did not need to cluster , nor hide herself behind others, she did not giggle or whisper, or cast down her eyes, - yes, Elgalad's Lord was quite right, her eyes were her father's, his father's, he had simply been too absorbed in her to truly see it. The same straight gaze and regard; in a court where lowered lashes and mock bashfulness was employed when flirting, she would engage eye contact and hold it. This was probably what Elphir saw, Eldarion had been to Dol Amroth , it had retained its sense of monarchy long after the Kings of the North and South had failed, and was entrenched deeply in courtly traditions; to Elphir, she must be even more unusual than to Eldarion. 

Himeth, however, he already knew, in the sense that he knew her kind. In a land where there were many young, most noblewomen were married as soon as a suitable match was found; the fortunate ones married for love, but there were also not a few arranged. It was not impossible that his own might be, and even arranged by himself as long as he could find some liking or accommodation for his wife.

It was the destiny, and the desire of the young women to wed. Himeth had the look of one on the prowl for a husband. She was rather striking, with her dark hair and pale skin, but there was an ill temper to her eyes and features which was not attractive. She did not, either, look as if she would easily give up the chase.

In the garden, Olwen stared at the Elf, unabashedly, so much so that he, whom was used to it in the Thousand Cities, blushed.

'' I have seen Prince Legolas, once or twice, my lord. '' She said.

'' He is my P-Prince, '' Elgalad replied, with a smile.

'' Or was, b-b-before I left Lasgalen, although I l-lived there a long t-time. ''

His voice was soft , with less of a stammer, than a faint stumble over certain words , although their enunciation was perfect. With the flawless face and unlined skin, he looked a youth, scarce older than Eldarion, but also, in some strange way, ageless.

'' Did you truly see I was with child, my lord? '' She asked quietly.

'' I c-cannot read minds, my l-lady, not truly - feelings, mayhap, '' he responded gently, '' b-but there is something in thy f-face which shows it, and the w-way that thou dost walk. Joy sparkled b-behind thine eyes. ''

'' That is more than many men would see. '' She laughed .

'' Would you tell me of the Great Wood? And your people?"

'' Gladly, lady. '' He said, and then in his quiet, musical voice began to weave for her the deep spell of the forest he loved.


	40. Under the Stars

‘You would dress me in the colors of Ithilien?’

Anwyn held the light blue gown against her chest and raised her eyes to her mother whose back was turned to her as she pulled several more gowns from a large wooden trunk that had been sent for from Ithilien and had arrived earlier that morning.

As it presently remained Anwyn possessed nothing that she could say truly belonged to her, even the very clothes upon her back were borrowed. This sat very poorly with Anwyns deep sense of pride. 

This night there would be a feast under the stars to celebrate the safe return of the Prince of Gondor. Anwyn did not have any strong desire to go and she would sooner forget the events of weeks past.

‘The King has shown you such kindness. It would be rude to refuse an invitation to dine with him and his family’

Eowyn told her somewhat chidingly pressing a thick silver belt in her daughter’s hand and Anwyn inwardly bristled at these words. Was she a prisoner of the King still or a guest? It was true that the King had shown her kindness whereas most would have simply dismissed her as mad and left her to rot in that cell.

Yet it was not the King or Prince she did not wish to dine with, it was nearly everyone else who was sure to also be there and she did not understand her mother’s rigid insistence that she must attend.

“Go on then” Eowyn scolded giving Anwyn a gentle push towards the door.

Anwyn returned to her own chambers to bathe and took the time to comb out her long hair until it shone and she did not trouble to braid it but left it loose about her shoulders. Lastly she dressed in the gown that had been given to her. It was loose on her but the belt gathered it around her slender waist. Anwyn purposely tarried in readying herself, and the sun had long since sunk below the mountains and the moon now held dominion in the sky above.

Music greeted Anwyn as she walked towards the courtyard where the feast was being held, and beneath it the murmur of many voices. Lingering in the archway a moment longer Anwyn’s pale eyes moved to the faces of those gathered, and found not one whom she recognized.

In return Anwyn felt the weight many eyes upon her, but kept her gaze forward and her back straight. Certainly it seemed that the odd tale of her birth had arrived long before she had, for here in the flesh was the illegitimate daughter of the Lady Eowyn, whom had been concealed from her husband Prince Faramir until very recently.   
For a brief moment Anwyn entertained the thought that perhaps the true reason her mother had been so insistent upon her joining the feast was to show that she was not ashamed of her daughter, or what she had done all those years ago.

Anwyn stood alone, for none troubled themselves to approach her and likewise she did receive any glances or gestures that she might be welcomed to join. Anwyn lacked the gems and preciously silks that many of the woman worse, as they flitted about like strange colorful birds.

There was a gathering of some size near her, and at its center stood one man who must have been telling some captivating tale for all who gathered near him were silent. Curious, Anwyn dared to draw closer, not too close, simply close enough.

Anwyn knew the voice well before she recognized the man whom it belonged to. Even before she could move through the group that surrounded him and lay eyes upon him she felt a smile upon her lips.

Elphir was dressed very finely in the dark blue and silver of Dol Amroth. As of course was befitting of a Prince, though he looked quite different to the same man whom had commanded the ship on their journey and the man who she had walked with just this morning. 

Though stranger and newer yet was the woman who had her arm draped possessively around that of the Prince and she stood very closely to him. Diamonds shone like stars from the depths of her dark curly hair and her eyes were a pale blue under dark winging brows. There was no doubting that this woman was regally beautiful. From the jewels that she wore, to the great billowing gown she wore to her haughty expression there was a woman who seemed truly befitting to be upon the arm of a Prince before the eyes of many.

An icy cold fist of doubt closed tightly around her heart, had she so wrongly misread the affections of the Prince that she had failed to realize he was already betrothed to another woman?  
Heat spread across her cheeks and she found herself blinking back the heavy hot tears that threatened to fall. In that moment Anwyn was forced to confront the truth that lay within her own heart that what she felt towards the Prince had long since moved past simple affection.

_It does not matter_ Anwyn told herself as she struggled to regain her composure as she drew in a shuttering breath. The weight of the truth was all at once crashing down upon her. There could not be anything them. There could not ever be anything more as he was a Prince and the rightful heir the fiefdom of Dol Amroth and she was an illegitimate daughter unable to even name her own blood father.  
She did not belong here.__

_ _The walls of the place were pushing themselves down upon her, and Anwyn fought for breath and could no longer conceal her deep discomfort as several about her had turned to stare, their brows knitting together disapprovingly as they watched but did not make move to aid her._ _

_ _Elphir had now seen her, as the smile slid from his face and his jovial expression was replaced by surprise and swiftly then concern, and he took a step forward towards her._ _

_ _Anwyn could not stand it a moment longer and sharply turned away pushing her way past those who did not clear a path quickly enough to allow her to mass through them as she sought the open air to calm the burn she felt within her breast._ _

_ _The lush grass that lead down a slope towards the lake gave extra spring to every long stride as Anwyn sought to put as much distance between herself and the castle and all within its walls behind her. Giving no thought as to where she sought to go, she only knew she must._ _

_ _It was shameful to her to run away as though she were a child but no less shameful than the foolish thoughts she had allowed to seed and take root in her mind and heart. _ _

_ _When a hand clamped down upon her shoulder to arrest her flight she spun sharply about and pushed it away with such ferocity that she startled herself._ _

_ _The Prince had followed her, as she knew he might but she at that moment felt too shaken to even allow him to speak._ _

_ _‘No’ Anwyn managed raising a shaking hand ‘I am no fool and you shall not play me as one no longer!’_ _

_ _Elphir raised both his hands as though this small gesture could pacify the northern womans wrath. Indeed never in his life had he been spoken to thusly yet he was willing to admit he had earned her anger though what she had come upon was not truly as it appeared._ _

_ _‘I do not believe you a fool, Anwyn’ Elphir’s deep voice was as calm as the waters on the lake._ _

_ _‘The woman you saw me with. That is Lady Gailrin, who is the only daughter of one of my Fathers most trusted counsellors. I was merely showing her the courtesy that is befitting of a most honored lady of the court’_ _

_ _‘Then return to her’ Anwyn replied dismissively, her words still colored by hurt ‘You will not be in the company of a woman of such high and noble birth as long as you follow me.’_ _

_ _As cutting as the words were, Anwyn truly believed them and wished him to go. So long she had struggled to find her place in a world that was ever changing about her, for every time she thought she had found her footing once again everything about her was changed was more and she found herself even more adrift and uncertain._ _

_ _‘Anwyn’ Elphir reached out to touch her, closing the space between them but Anwyn stepped away shaking her head._ _

_ _‘Please’ Anwyn murmured ‘Do not do this. Do not give my a heart that is filled with the foolish hope that you may care for me when I know you cannot’_ _

_ _Elphir was looking at her strangely, and she instantly regretted her words as true as they were._ _

_ _‘It is no foolish hope, Anwyn, for I tell you now that I do care for you. More than I am able to admit’ Reaching out he gently touched her cheek, while she knew she should not allow such an intimate gesture she was unable to draw away and raised her eyes to meet his. _ _

_ _‘I am….I am not worthy of being loved by you’ Anwyn forced out upon a shuddering breath, feeling a fear that she had never known, for she had never before felt ashamed of her heritage._ _

_ _‘Love shall always be given to those who are worthy of it, my dear lady. You are a high spirited and noble woman of Rohan and so unlike any woman I have even known. Wether you will heed my words or not, you are most worthy of my love’_ _

_ _The princes breath was warm across her lips as Elphir leaned closer and Anwyn watched his face, breathing deeply of his scent…._ _

_ _The screeching was like that of a great bird as both Anwyn and Elphir both turned sharply about as Gailrin came at a full run from the top of the slope before them._ _

_ _Anwyn could only watch in shock as the woman descended down about them, a thunderstorm adorned in silks._ _

_ _Elphir took a step forward as to shield Anwyn from the woman’s white hot fury._ _

_ _‘Rohirric Baseborn Harlot’ Gailrin seethed from behind closed teeth as she rushed closer. Anwyn was taken aback by such ugly words coming from the mouth of one so fair._ _

_ _‘Lady Gailrin’ Elphir attempted a firm tone but the woman did not even appear to see him, her eyes were upon Anwyn ‘How dare you draw Elphir away from me?’_ _

_ _‘I do not’ Anwyn answered plainly, dumbstruck by the woman’s hostility towards her._ _

_ _‘Gailrin’ Elphir tried again, his tone firmer but still it did not seem as though the noble woman knew or cared he was there. _ _

_ _Gailrin deftly stepped around the Prince in one swift moment and raised her hands as though to give Anwyn a hard push backwards. Anwyn raised her own hands catching the woman by her slender wrists. Hands that had known many years of holding veins and other labors were by far stronger than those possessed by one who had never known a true moment’s hardship._ _

_ _‘Release me’ Gailrin spat upon Anwyn._ _

_ _‘As you wish’ Anwyn replied simply releasing the woman’s hands as she took a simple step aside and Gailrin continued forward falling headlong in the lake with a loud splash._ _

_ _Elphir stood watching, utterly aghast as Gailrins head immediately broke the surface of the waters with a shriek so loud it brought many running from the gardens above. Flailing hopelessly drawn further down into the muck of the shallows by her many petticoats Elphir was the first into the water to pull out the woman to the shore._ _

_ _Anwyn stood silently aside as many rushed forward to assist the soaked Gailrin._ _

_ _There was a man who pushed his way through those that had formed a close ring about the woman who was now weeping and shivering “Dear Gailrin, what has happened!” he demanded kneeling before her and Anwyn began to draw herself away for she had some inclination of what may happen next _ _

_ _“The Rohirrim….Peasant! Pushed me into the lake Father!” Gailrin exclaimed weepily before raising a hand to her brow and fainting prettily._ _

_ _“My dearest daughter!” The man who was clearly her father exclaimed loudly “She must be carried to her bed!” Those grey eyes were lifted to fall immediately upon Elphir who had been struck quite speechless “My Prince, please! You have ever cared for my dear Gailrin”_ _

_ _Elphir was caught rather tightly now and knelt and lifted the woman’s limp form into her arms, though as he straightened she stirred and her arms moved to drape her arms about his neck and her head falling against his chest._ _

_ _As he moved past Anwyn he looked at her with an expression that was somewhat apologetic though he had done nothing wrong. The father moved passed giving her a sharp look of disdain but said nothing further. Anwyn simply stared back still somewhat in disbelief of all that had just transpired._ _


End file.
